Resident Evil: Lost In Nightmares
by Andamaie
Summary: What might have possibly happened before, during, and after the events of RE5. AU Chris x Jill / Wesker x Jill. Cover images belong to Lips-Like-Morphine on DeviantArt
1. Chapter One: Bittersweet Sundown

Lightning blasted an astonishing bright light throughout the night sky as the thunder rumbled deeply behind, spreading like a tidal wave throughout the Spencer Estate. It was much like it's replica in Raccoon only it, unlike the other, was still intact.  
_But not for long._

He held his breath as he took a dive for his next victim, grabbing ahold of the bodyguard's neck he put subtle pressure. The fear in the man's dying eyes alerted as he looked upon the face of his attacker. He didn't see it coming, nor had he ever seen anyone with such strength. He tried to struggle as the fair haired man with dark shaded sunglasses gazed upon his face, a smile forming playfully on his lips as the chill of death swarmed over the bodyguard's body. With a non-effortless squeeze the man's neck cracked, breaking into a million pieces under Albert Wesker's hands, the ripping tear sending pure thrill down his spine as he killed the last of his effortless prey.

Without any remorse or sadness for the man he had just killed Wesker continued his way down the now empty luxuriously decorated corridor. Silk black curtains laced the windows which aligned the left wall, one right after the other, the only thing between them was vintage black metal sconce lights, with faux pale light protruding from them. White marble columns were placed randomly to add elegance to the look, much like the Arklay Mountains mansion, and a, surely what was a thousand dollar, rug was placed neatly beneath his feet, centered in the narrow area. He would give Spencer credit, the man did have taste.

In 1996 Wesker was Captain of S.T.A.R.S the RPD Alpha Team, acting as a double agent for Umbrella. He did it to figure out more about Umbrella and the latest on going experiments that his ears, and eyes had been excluded from. He knew Ozwell Spencer was hiding a lot more from him than just data, but what he didn't know. With every passing day Wesker found less and less to go on making his impatience grow stronger; making today the most important day in all of Wesker's existence.

Wesker had never been shown any kindness as a child. His parent's both scientist allowed him to be raised into an umbrella lifestyle, ergo giving Wesker his all too cunning personality. Umbrella was all he knew along with being shown anger, impatience, and a hunger for undying power that had driven him to the break of insanity. Wesker had never had a Christmas, or even a Birthday at that, but at this very moment he felt like a child who had just received the greatest and most glorious gift of them all. If all went well he would send a bonus check to Agent Ada Wong for the information on the whereabouts's of Spencer's location. Although Ada had been known to double cross and add her own twist to her assignments Wesker was too anxious not to believe her, any lead was better than none. He would trust her, just this last time.  
_We'll see about that._

Silent lightning struck once again as Wesker found himself at the double cherry oak doors to Spencer's office. The excitement rising from the pit of his stomach as he pictured the look of sheer horror that would shine on the old man's face when he got a good glimpse at his intruder. Wesker chuckled deeply, his imaginative mind twirling wildly at how this would all turn out.

He placed his black gloved hands on the nobs, turning both as he wasted no time to make an appropriately disturbing introduction. He couldn't wait to hear the appealing pleas of the old man begging for his unworthy life.

The office was one of the biggest rooms in the estate, which Wesker had noted when he scoped out the duplicated floor plans beforehand. The walls were rich cherry oak wood the same as the double doors. Bookcases streamed all around the room full of books from the arched ceiling down to the marble white floors. From the floor led to a stage like uprising which had stairs leading to two large Victorian styled windows. His golden eyes scanned the room quickly, meeting his target who to his disappointment did not seem surprised nor interested in what had just happened, his body still as Wesker continued his way farther into the room.

_Maybe he is asleep and a very heavy sleeper at that? _

Sometimes even Wesker jumped at the humanly part of him that answered to his animalistic side. After taking the prototype virus he had lost his human senses. He never felt any intense emotion, which would get him physiologically booked into a crazy house as a psychopath. At first he could still here the whimpers of his conscious, trying to get him down and feel horrible guilt for what he had done to himself and others; now it was locked away tightly in the back of Wesker's thick skull. It was like his personality was split into two separate beings, and the virus was the alpha. But did Wesker truly mind? Power was all he desired after all, but even so…he was once human, correct?

* * *

The sun had finally shifted below the rocky European mountains, making the sky a starless and dull shade of navy blue. Jill Valentine and partner Chris Redfield sat side by side as the anticipated mission drew nearer with every sudden repeating round of the chopper blades drawing them closer to their destination.

Jill who was now thirty still looked just about the same as she did when she was a part of the S.T.A.R.S Alpha Team, she could think her father, Dick, for the excellent age defying genetics. The only difference was the length of her hair, which was lazily laying freely in straight brunette waves down her back.

Chris who was now thirty-two had lost all signs of boyishness that he had once wore sportingly. He had buffed up, not a lot just enough to suit his needs for the job. He always had a five o' clock shadow which he refused to shave. Not that Jill minded, she had always joked with him about being handsome, she even said once, while under the influence, that he had aged like "fine wine". Which gave Chris, who was completely sober at the time, a good laugh.

Both Chris and Jill were now a part and co-founders of the BSAA (_Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance) _North America Branch a non-governmental organization to combat the increasing numbers of B.O.W.s being sold on the black market worldwide. Working as SOA (Special Operations Agents) which is soldiers who perform specialist tasks, and are usually placed in partner scenarios. Over the years due to the success of the organization headquarters were stationed worldwide looking for soldiers who would soulfully dedicate their selves to the cause.

Chris and Jill shared a common look; it was the look of their doubts and sadness. No matter how good life was at the time being the memories of all the horrors from their pasts always came back to bite them in the ass with the what ifs, and undying question to the mystery they called their everyday lives. Yeah sure, the cause was more than great. Saving millions of people daily, fighting for those innocents who don't have a chance against the harsh coldness of what their surrounding world really is. But, was it worth throwing away your life so selflessly over? To not go through with all the plans they made for the future that actually made them happy? Jill hated how much she questioned the job more and more lately.

Jill of all people knew that this job was the right thing but would she have regrets later on down the road? Dying alone in a nursing home, no family, no husband, nothing but an empty stone-cold heart from the pain she consumed while working to save the world while some young nurse feeds, bathes, and wipes her ass. That was defiantly not what Jill had written in all her journals back when things were normal. Jill only noticed these thoughts occurring when she was around him, Chris Redfield who had been her better half for the last almost decade. Before she could easily shrug them off but after the events of Terragregia, thinking she had lost Chris forever, played tricks with her head. To this very day though Jill could still remember the faces of the two innocent souls that pushed her to become what she was today, Becky and Priscilla McGee. The young girls she befriended and spent several of her afternoons watching, the young girls who were one of the very first of a never ending cycle of deaths caused by the T-Virus.  
_Oh, how I could use your smiles during times like these._

Eight years after the events of Raccoon, here they sat, the surviving two out of a few ex-S.T.A.R.S members Chris Redfield, and Jill Valentine, alive and well. Jill only having her father (Who was now out of prison and living in her condo back in the States until he gets back on his feet) lived a pretty lonesome life until her father was released from prison, and Chris only having Claire (Who after being put through hell decided it best to stay out of the battlefield, now works with the Human Rights Organization of Terra Save) lived nearly a hundred miles away from her older brother. Needless to say Jill and Chris found company in each other even on their days off, and were more of a family then they cared to admit.

Chris's house was right down the block from Jill's condo complex, and when they had a hard investigation they would crash at each other's place, working all night and day until they got to the end of whatever it was. Hell, there was some nights Jill would wake up from a nightmare and drive to Chris's just so she could feel the comfort of his embrace wrap around her waist letting her know she was alive. Chris on the other hand didn't mind at all. He would always end up holding an extremely paranoid Valentine in his arms while they watched a goofy movie until she fell back asleep; never admitting that he could watch her slumbering state for hours at a time.

Chris much like Jill was in the same exact predicament. He too wanted to retire to a life of relaxation, not to have to worry if he and Jill, or whoever partner he was assigned at the time, would make it through whatever task at hand. To not feel like he was balancing life and death at the point of his gun would be a relief for once. Though leaving the BSAA meant leaving Jill and that was something that he could never do.

Was that selfish of him? He didn't think so, he knew deep down that he had done more in his life than millions could do in a year. He deserved it, and she deserved it but there was one thing holding him back the wall he put up eight years ago. The wall that pushed all thoughts of having a significant other and kids aside because this world was too far gone for that. To lose them and all the luxuries that came with it would be hell, and little did he know she felt the same.

Tonight though the shared look was full of hopefulness. Tonight they knew deep down that all their troubles and all the shit they have fought against for eight years would come to an end, and if that happened Chris who stood in the locker room pacing about looking at an older photo of him and Jill decided that he would tell her how he felt. Tonight would be the end of Umbrella, and all the haunting memories of Raccoon finally giving all the lost souls some justice.

A couple years ago the BSAA received intel as to the whereabouts of Umbrella's founder, Ozwell E. Spencer. Both Jill and Chris, with the insight of the mansion in Arklay Mountains, were ordered by the BSAA European headquarters to apprehend him. Both of course accepted the mission without second thought, if anyone was going to bring down Spencer it would be two survivors of the mansion incident, and if they were successful they were hopeful to find proof and uncover the horrors of what truly happened in Raccoon. Not only were they seeking justice but they also caught wind, thanks to their dear old acquaintance Trent; who had saved their asses on copious occasions, that Ozwell was the next target on Wesker's list, and if they were lucky Spencer would lead them straight to Wesker; knocking out two birds with one stone.

Chris looked over at Jill who was enjoying the last sight of the sun disappear beneath the horizon. He placed a fingerless gloved hand on her knee. She turned to look at him, her brown hair falling from her shoulders as her clear blue eyes met his dark hazel. He gave her a gentle smirk, "You'll see it tomorrow." He said knowing that there was nothing more Jill loved than looking up at the sun proving she survived another day, tomorrow hopefully she would gaze upon the first break of day.

She nodded and forced a smile on her lips, "I know."

"Landing in five!" Winston Crane, who was a trained pilot for the BSAA, shouted back at them as both hoped up with what little room they had and continued clothing themselves.

Jill through on her blue BSAA alpha jacket over her black tank top. Zipping it up she then placed her favorite Beretta, which Barry Burton had gotten her for her birthday six years ago, inside the rapid access panels (pockets inside the middle layer of the jacket which show no sign of anything placed within), and enough rounds of ammo for both guns to get her through a bioweapon war. She then placed a knife in each sleeve, which concealed the weapon at the wrist of the sleeve for easy access. Putting on her tactical belt she placed two grenades and a stun grenade, hoping she wouldn't need to use them; Jill always hated the sound of grenades and the burning smell that singed off the metal. Having everything intact she continued, placing her tactical shoulder holster on her back, putting her other handgun in the empty place of which it belonged. She through her long hair into a tight ponytail, running her fingers back as she placed a blue hat on her head, so her bangs wouldn't fall down while in action, and then slipped her ponytail through the back to secure it.

She then sat back down in her seat and watched as Chris jumped around mindlessly throwing on his tactical vest. She always got a kick out of him preparing for a mission, it was funny watching him go over every little detail and still yet be the one out of the two who forgot the most.

Chris placed ammo in every empty section of the tactical vest. His handgun was already placed in the holster that connected to both vest and belt. He scanned his brain over and over again, doing his mental checklist making sure everything was in place that is until he heard a tiny chuckle from behind him, he turned to look at her, "Got something you want to say, Valentine?"

She stood up grabbing a couple flash grenades, and one regular. Her Doc Martin's clicked on the tin of the helicopter floor. She made a motion with her hand telling him to turn around, he gave her a tiny crooked smile, as he did as she instructed, his brain clicking as he remembered what he forgot. She placed them all on the back of his vest, locking them all tightly into place. She stared at his broad shoulders and the back of his muscled arms trying to stick to the point on task, "Senile. Not exactly your best trait, Redfield."

He laughed deeply, and Jill patted his back alerting him that she was done. He turned around and looked down at his partner, he couldn't help but stare at her lips. He had wanted to kiss her soft lips passionately for so long and after tonight if she felt as he did, which of course she did, he knew it would happen. His breath quickened a bit as an unknown warmth spread throughout his chest. He touched her face instead, caressing it in a way that made her freeze with no-self-control. His eyes narrowing with care, "No matter what happens, Jill…"

She shook her head and pulled away, looking up at him apologetically. Jill was never the one to be sentimental before a mission, it clouded her judgment which would make her mind focus on everything but the task on hand, "No, Chris. We will survive this, we've gone this long and tonight it ends. Tonight we win."

"I need you in your seats. Getting ready to land." Crane yelled back

Chris looked at her bitter sweetly nodding, as they both took their seats buckling in unison. She held back the tears that wanted to spill. _Damn you, Redfield for making me such a sap._ Fighting the urge and winning she looked over at Chris who was loading his gun, "I'm sorry if that sounded…"

"No, Jill." He said looking up forcing a smile although all his nerves were on edge, "No matter the cost, we will win."

She smiled that Jill Valentine smile that Chris swore made every theory in existence a cold hard fact. She was the light in the darkness that made everything okay, they could do this. They would do this. It was them against the world.


	2. Chapter Two: Memories of the Night

Jill caressed tightly at her Px4 (HG) as the sound of their footsteps mushed into the wet foggy ground surrounding the estate. Wet droplets of rain sprinkled down on their uncovered skin, both finding it extremely vexatious as the chilling mist accumulated into their pores. Lightning took a leap spreading its wings to light the now black sky while thunder by its side cried with desperation, echoing into oblivion. Both Jill and Chris skimmed with their wide alerted eyes wondering wildly around the gloaming forest; which to Jill's relief wasn't silent. Hell, she could've jumped for joy when she finally realized crickets were chirping, and frogs were croaking, singing along in tune with the stormy sky. There was still life here, something that was undeniably extinct up on the Arklay Mountains.

Making their way through the woods they finally found the dirt un-kept path to the front door. Jill let out a nervous tiny laugh in denial at how uncanny the Spencer Estate looked like its dead twin within the Arklay Mountains. It made her stomach queasy turning in knots of vengeful adrenaline. All her fears and anxieties gnawing at her from memories of a night that happened eight years ago and still haunted her dreams to this very day. Though she knew the history of Spencer and the mansions she wasn't aware of how mentally draining it would be to face the ghostly portrait painted in front of her eyes.

She swallowed hard, and Chris, who had been no doubt severely messed up from the whole ordeal, was a lot better off afterwards then what Jill had been, sensed the uneasiness of his partner. He looked over at her, she was still scoping around for danger but he could see the bitterness of heartfelt pain stricken across her tanned face, her blue eyes filled with worry. Jill could still recall the way the sound of the four legged canine creatures, "Zombie Dogs" (Known by the mad scientists as Cerberus or MA-39. Which was created by the C-Virus), crunched into the thick grass beneath their muscled bodies, as they chased all four members of the surviving S.T.A.R.S. into the old abandoned Mansion. The sound of their hungry growls, and ear piercing howls at the nip of their necks, flooding upon them like an infinite tidal wave.

"Jill?" Chris said his hand placed on her shaking arm, she looked up at him and then down to his hand, "Are you going to be okay? I can have HQ call…"

"No, Chris." She said cutting him off gently, "I'm fine."

He knew she was lying but he also knew there was nothing he could do. He gave her a smirk as he dropped his hand back on his gun, "It will be okay Jill. We are in the clear for now, we just have to be cautious." Jill's eyes eased and she nodded to him as she took a deep breath, reminding herself that this wasn't Raccoon and they weren't in any immediate danger. She threw the shattered memories as she placed one foot in front of the other pacing herself further up the muddy path beside Chris.

The architecture of the estate was beautifully done; an authentic look presented itself mildly with luxurious themes. Three steps led to a small marble porch with railings that was being held up by six columns, three on each side of the door. A soft light gleamed from the fixture above the wooden double doors that were solidly standing; which to Jill was yet another huge relief.

_Look at the upside Jilly. Living, breathing, animals with actual heartbeats are outside, and no one had to down the doors due to flesh eating dogs._

Chris on the other hand wasn't feeling much of anything as he watched Jill reach into her utility belt and pull out her lock picking set without hesitation; any fear that was keeping her down now long gone. Chris had always admired that skill, even tried to pick up on it, but his hands just weren't cut out for lock picking; which Jill teased him about for months. He would always respond the same, _"What can I say? Not everyone can be the "Master of Unlocking", Valentine."_

Throwing the memory aside he went back to doing his job knowing there was no time to think about anything other than Spencer and Wesker. He looked out into the wilderness, taking one last glance making sure that they were in the clear, then placed his pointer finger on his ear piece.

"Chris to HQ, come in. We're at the location." He said and a voice responded, a static noise emerging fast but faded as the voice began to speak back to him, Jill listening in through hers, "Copy that, Chris. Move in and procure the target."

Chris placed his finger back on the button to speak, "Rodger that." Looking at the lock of the old Victorian door, Jill placed two of her precision picks inside the hole; one small and the other large, as she began to speak into her ear piece, "What can you tell us about the area?"

The crackling voice responded as Jill furrowed her brow in a concentrative manner, "The satellite scan isn't showing anything out of the ordinary," The knots in Jill's stomach untied knowing she had nothing to worry about until they were inside, _obviously,_ "but regardless, you should expect the unexpected."

"Understood." Jill replied, placing the big pick on the bottom of the key hole and the smaller on top; she fidgeted them both, not having to think about what she was doing exactly, she turned them to the left and then the right, a tiny click sounded as her fingers felt the release of the lock let go. She looked up at Chris whose hard concentrated hazel eyes were locked on her, she gave him nod. He responded wordlessly copying the gesture as Jill stood up. Chris placed his fingerless gloved hand on the golden right knob, looking over at Jill, "We're in." Chris watched the two words fall from her lips now feeling an un-easy anxiousness. He swallowed it down gripping the knob harder, pushing in with his shoulders, "Let's move." Not waiting for a response he was in, his gun pointed up, ready to take fire. Jill who was right behind him, taking one last look at the night sky as two words emerged into her disbandingbrain, _"Abandon hope."_

The very first thing Jill noticed was the up to date exterior, obviously this place wasn't "abandoned" like they said the Spencer Estate replica in Raccoon was, and the smell…It wasn't death, it was more so moldy, like the smell of clothes you forgot and left in the washer for a week, _sour. _That was the word. And from the drying blood on the marbled detailed floor she was guessing that was half of the horrid odor. She looked over at Chris who was trying his best to get used to the stench, he looked back at her stepping forward. "Never thought I'd see this place again." Chris mumbled more darkly than he wished too. Jill nodded, her eyes skimmed around, "You and me both, Redfield."

The open room was spacious with little furniture. Jill could recall her first thought while entering the Raccoon Mansion, A palace that she could've easily squeezed her old one bedroom bath into.

_George Trevor was a good architect, a damn good one at that._

The walls were creamed marbled like the outside, marble pillars lining the lavish hall supporting the cherry oak balustrade of the upper floor. An enormous staircase was planted dead center across from the front door, leading to two other sets of stairs on both sides. The stairs weren't threaded with red and gold tacky carpet, but bare and looked to be grey marble. On either side of the staircase on the bottom floor was two archways, which if Jill remembered correctly were much opulent than its fraternal twin. Beside the entrances was two vintage blue designed white vases, and a portrait. The only difference between the two was one had an elegant wooden table beneath the rounded golden framed portrait and the other did not. To her left and right surprise, surprise, a door on each side; the left she was sure lead to a dining area that would sit at least a dozen, and if Spencer truly stuck to the whole "replica" ordeal, the right door would lead to an art gallery. Looking up there was a beautiful metal chandelier that looked down upon Jill and Chris. The upstairs nothing she hadn't seen before, the left side bannister was crushed right before the entrance to a door, but other than that, same old, same old… until she saw something above the stairs.

Jill stepped forward hoping to god that it wasn't what she thought it was. Before her feet were placed close enough for her eyes to get a good look it dropped to the cold hard ground.

Both partner's raised their guns without any hesitation. Jill who was already at the body now, turned back to look at Chris, who gave her a melancholy look.

She lowered her gun as she dropped one knee to the ground, the other's foot placed solidly beside the knee, as she stared down at the dead body in front of her. It was a man, his face swollen and purple, distorted with the fine wrinkles of terror, his eyes engulfed in solid crimson. Chris was now at her side looking over the body, examining it. The man was wearing a brown suit and a tie, his dark hair had possibly been slicked back with gel before he died. _Must've been a bodyguard?_

"I don't see a bite." Jill said up to her partner, "If I'm not mistaken, I think his neck might have been broken before the fall." Jill lifted the man's head, it wobbled, the feeling reminding Jill of a wobbly headed baby doll she had as a child.

Chris agreed, knowing that this was done by someone not a something; but still yet the death wound was still not something you would see on a normal murder victim. Jill stood up placing her hand on the earpiece as she continued her way up the stairs with Chris following, "Eagle 5 to nest, come in."

"Go ahead, Eagle 5." The crackling deep voice responded as they made their way up, "We've encountered a corpse. Possibly Spencer's bodyguards. From what I can see they appear to have been killed by unconventional means."

"Rodger that. We knew this mission wouldn't be a cake walk. Use extreme caution."

Reaching the break in the stairs, she looked to each side noticing that both led to silver vintage gates, which Jill thought looked a lot more like cell bars. _Maybe he's keeping something locked inside?_ Chills shot down Jill's spine at the thought, another chimed in, _Relax. Spencer's just a paranoid mad man. You know this._ She allowed the after-thought to calm her surging nerves back down taking a left and wasting no time to reach the gate. Placing her hand on the handle she pushed in, as she figured it would be, it was locked and not just a normal lock that she "The Master of Unlocking" could breach within seconds; it was none other, from their experience eight years ago, a puzzle lock.

"Should've guessed." Chris mumbled rubbing the back of his neck, "We should have known by the looks of the damn thing it wouldn't have opened."

Jill shrugged but nodded at the comment, "A girl could only hope."

She hadn't taken her eyes off the non-rusted gate. It was sealed tight, no doubt about that, but what through her off was the fact that there was no hints as to what the puzzle actually was, no shape, no place to put a gem, it had to be a lever and by no means would that lever be out in the open for all to see…it was going to be hidden.

She sighed already dreading what was to come next, and turned around to look at her partner, "Guess we should explore the place a bit more?"

Chris flashed back remembering the dreadful night and how he went off "exploring" by himself, he kicked the thought in the ass and followed Jill back down to the entry. His eyes caught another body in the corner. _Poor Bastard. _There was no sense in investigating the body, he knew the man was already long gone and like the other didn't go peacefully. He heard a loud smash, like fine china hitting the hard dining room floor, he turned toward the sound and walked in its direction. Only to see Jill kneeled down picking up only god knows what. _Please, be a key._

"What'd ya find?"

She stood up stuffing ammunition inside her tactical belt, then stood up handing him a tiny red box. He grabbed it confused, "Ammo? Inside the vase?"

"Do you not remember Raccoon?" She said somewhat humored by his muddled expression, he placed the ammo in his vest and then smirked at her, "Like it was yesterday." The statement wasn't a lie, déjà vu certainly wasn't the best feeling…not under these circumstances.

Jill continued talking as she turned into the archway and down the path, "I get it, if I was as crazed as him I would be hiding ammo in my…" she stopped mid-sentence, placing her arm out so that Chris couldn't walk past her. He looked forward seeing what she saw, passed another archway was a lever placed on the right wall across from an opening, where Chris vaguely remembered the back door to be. Both looked up and down, skimming the walls for any sign of an opening for a trap. He could hear Jill take a deep uncertain breath, "Do you think it's a trap?"

"I don't think we have a choice but to find out." He said regretfully, she looked up at Chris whose jaw was clenched, something she caught him doing every time he was scared or on the rare occasion mad. She lowered her arm and stepped forward, Chris caught her by the shoulder pulling her back a touch, "Let me go first."

Jill squinted her eyes with worried-rage, "No."

She watched as he bit down harder on his jaw as his hard gaze met hers. Both knowing that they were surfing dangerous territory, not only with their lives but with each other; sometimes, after all they had been through, it was hard to remember they were only partners and had to be professionals while on the job, one slip up could lead to serious consequences. At the moment though neither gave a shit.

"Don't be stubborn, Jill."

She stepped in front of him, "We go together or not at all."

Chris knew there was no sense in arguing with her, she would win, and though he hated to admit it going together was the best bet for both their sakes. He only nodded, and she took her place back beside him as they continued down the stairs slowly with their guns at aim.

Coming to the opening Jill turned to her left, and Chris kept his gun pointed straight ahead incase an enemy approached from the opposite archway. She lowered her gun, her eyes seeing another celled gate. This one was different though, around the bars were spikes covered in what could have either been dried blood or rust. She stepped closer, "Clear." She whispered. Chris turned in her direction noticing something sticking out from the wall.

Jill couldn't see what was inside or where it led, and truth be told she didn't want to get close enough to find out and it not be just another destination route. She grabbed the flashlight connected to her utility belt, turning it on to peer inside. To her relief, from what she could tell, it was nothing but another hallway. _But, how do we get it open?_

Turning around, Chris was looking down at the answer examining a circled like shape sticking out of the wall, a hole the size of a vacuum cleaner pipe dead center.

"And here I thought we would be in and out." He said sarcastically, she patted his shoulder and made her way to the lever, "Cover me?"

He took his place behind her, his eyes searching for any sort of movement as he heard her pull down on the rusted lever, nothing spawning in their presences. After only getting somewhat stuck once Jill successfully pulled down on the lever. A loud clicking noise echoed from upstairs down to where they were, and Jill who isn't that much of an optimist, smiled to herself. _No tricky business after all._ Chris who had noticed her hopeful grin felt simplicity, getting caught up in daydreams of what they could be after this night. Jill who had already made it up the tiny set of stairs realized Chris hadn't followed. She turned around to see him now grinning, "What?" she questioned knowing he would downplay it. Chris shook his head, letting his smile fade as he made his way to her, "Just thinking about how good it will feel when this nightmare is all over with."

She couldn't help but feel disappointed by the answer. _Who knew I, Jill Valentine to be such a hopeless romantic?_ She played it off impeccably casual still yet, "Let's get it over with then shall we?"

"Lead the way."


	3. Chapter Three: Medicate

Sorry it took so long to update! BUTTTT here it is! :D Thank you all for reading3

* * *

**July 4, 2006 10:56PM**

It was a Tuesday, much like any other, but evidently not exactly. The scene that played out in front of him was particularly not one he preferred; festive half naked woman slinging themselves at the closest man they could call a paycheck for the night, men fighting like ignorant animals over placed bets on whatever sports façade; presenting itself on either flat screen on the surrounding walls of the small dive bar, in which Albert Wesker found himself brooding in as he tried repressing the past couple days. He watched every move through his dark shades that every being was making. He was studying them as if they were the newest B.O.W. that all the mad scientist, in their fetching suits, had been raving about for months…but weren't they? In his eyes they were all monsters. Selfish, uncontrollable mooches, feeding off whatever life source they could dig their greedy sharp claws into. It was ironic to say the least, humans were all monsters whether they could admit it to themselves or not. He was one of a kind, he was honest with himself. _The purest of them all.  
_ Taking a deep breath he turned back around facing the mirror placed dead center between the shelves that stored the alcoholic beverages. Staring back was nothing but a faceless stranger who had nothing under control, not his life, and sure as hell not his body. His mind was buzzing, the sound petruding in his ears like an annoying sweat bee. He looked down at the glass in his gloved hand lifting it up, taking a gigantic gulp of the clear tasteless liquid which drained down the back of his throat smoothly, numbing his mind of uncertainty.  
Wesker knew something was wrong with himself, he was feeling again…emotions…weariness…weakness…his anxieties flooding throughout his core and pouring his sinful soul into his daily routine. There was not a doubt in Wesker's mind what was happening he was becoming human…why though? Eight years ago he was given a life, a brilliant gift that made angels cry, that made gods praise him enviously, kissing his feet to get in his good graces; but now what was he becoming? A guilty conscious? A puppet in Spencer's game? No….he couldn't, he wouldn't become that man he was in Raccoon City. He would find a way to better himself, regardless of the cost. It had to be the damn Prototype Virus, Birkin himself had given Wesker, finally ending its course. Wesker remembered the man's exact words as lucid as the day he spoke them, _"Inject this five minutes exactly before the time of need. I hypothesize that the interfusion is quick but still requires several minutes to adapt to the point of overcoming death." _At the time Wesker wanted nothing more than to laugh in his face, though he worked with Birkin for years, he still couldn't fathom the words coming out of the demented scientist's mouth, it had to be a joke, right?  
_Wrong. Oh was I so very wrong indeed._  
Birkin handed him a file before running off to god knows where, the document stated only the facts of the virus.

_There isn't much time. I'll instruct you on how to use the thing in question. For old time's sake, we need no reserve. The sample I handed you is one of the variant strains. It has an interesting property. I hypothesize that injection must be completed at least five minutes before the time of need. Interfusion is quick but still requires several minutes. Even if death results, if only a tissue fragment remains the virus will reconstruct body tissue and revives. In animal experiments, 70% changed into what is called a "strengthened state." Upon survival, muscular strength and cardiovascular ability were enhanced. The virus acts to overcome the cause of death. Strengthening of the body was not seen in the remaining 20% that were revived. 10% didn't revive. Revival probability is approximately 90%. Although I haven't tested it on people, it's not a bad gamble. I don't know what you'll use it for, but I know you'll use it well... good luck._

Wesker skimmed his brain trying to recall Birkin stating any expiration date on the god-like serum, but his mind came to a dead end. There was nothing, no information on the virus that he could remember that wasn't stated on the file he was given…and if what Birkin had said was true he was the first test subject…Maybe every so often he needed a renew, maybe his immune system boosted and began to fight the very virus giving it life? That was the only conclusion he could draw from the information given, and if that was the case finding Spencer would be his number one concern before it was too late and he too weak.

Wesker heard the subtle clicking of high heels against the un-cleaned tile floor. The barstool beside him squeaked, the sound of rusted metal screeching against the surface as the cushion part turned under the weight of whoever sat down. He turned ready to scare off any whore who was ready to lead him on seductively, only to be shocked when he faced the lady in red. Her red lips were curling into a deep smile which suited her olive colored skin rather nicely. Her brown eyes like a succubus, welcoming and warm, but Wesker knew what was truly hidden beneath those lashes.  
_A snake bitch who is a master in betrayal.  
_  
"Well," he said cold, turning to take a drink out of his glass, "Look what the cat drug in."  
She laughed, a snarling vicious laugh that belonged to the one and only, Ada Wong.  
"It's quite a shock finding you in such a…" She gestured around to the rough looking scenery, her eyes skimming around for a good cheap shot but coming to the sudden draw of nothing, "Un-kept facility…I'm disappointed. I thought you had better taste."  
"You were mistaken." He responded harshly, obviously throwing a cheap shot at her, by the way she shifted in her seat. Keeping up his masked act, not wanting her to know he wasn't on his game as of late, he continued, "What do you want, Ada?"  
Instead of responding she opened her clutch, pulling out a hard drive. Placing it on the bar with her long spider like fingers, she slid it down in front of him. "A peace offering."  
She could see his confusion even with his signature shades on. A jolt of interest fluttered in her stomach, Wesker wasn't one for showing any sort of emotion…it was odd, and by the look she knew he would need another drink.  
Ada motioned the greasy bartender their way, the man couldn't refuse the beauty of Miss Wong. He came without question, "And, what will you be having tonight, gorgeous?"  
Ada felt humored by the man's self-esteem, obviously he hadn't looked in the mirror for a few decades. She shifted her head to the side her short dark hair falling freely from her face, "Another glass of whatever he's having." She purred sliding her credit card towards the now jealous bartender who was looking back and forth from her to Wesker. Ada continued, "And also, I'll be paying for the drinks he's already drowned himself in as well." With a nod the man's gaze dropped as he turned to pour another glass of vodka and Ada knew she had dropped the "studs" ego down a couple notches. Ada turned her full attention to Wesker who was now cupping his hands around the tiny object she had given him.

Wesker's mind was turning mapping out all the possibilities that this little "chance upon" meeting wasn't one at all. Ada was a double agent after all, and whether Wesker liked to admit it, a damn good one at that. But he couldn't shake the feeling that the answers he had been drinking his nights away for, for the past couple weeks were all on the compact hard drive he held in his hand. Ada, possibly knowing Wesker better than anyone could sense his uneasiness, "You don't trust me, and I get that. But, I have a feeling that this could get me back on your payroll." He raised his brow, looking back toward her as the bartender sat down the glass, returning Ada's card, ignoring the man she stood up whilst placing her card where it had been retrieved, her brown eyes still fixated on the blonde man with covered eyes, "If you are interested in my services my info is in there."

Wesker wordlessly watched the woman walk away until she was out of view, flabbergasted by the whole ordeal. He had figured out copious mysteries, but that woman was still the biggest of them all. Instead of wasting time pondering on her, or how the hell she knew he was there, he stood up and placed his leather jacket on his shoulders, slipping the hard drive in his pocket. Pulling out a generous tip he laid it down for the bartender, making his way out of the bar and into the warmth of the city.

* * *

**PRESENT DAY**

Holding her breath Jill placed her right hand on the gated door. Having no other door to enter seeing as how the doors on the bottom were sealed shut this was their only way of getting somewhere. Pushing with little effort the gate opened. She let out the breath she was holding in and turned to look at Chris, "Looks like this might be a cake walk after all." He smirked following her into the open floor area which had banisters posted all around it. Jill wanted to kick the shit out of him for that remark, "Damnit Redfield! That's all we need is you jinxing our luck."  
"You and your white lighter mumbo jumbo, Jill." He teased, catching onto her tactical equipment as she about mindlessly fell to her death. Jill who wasn't paying any attention now realized what about happened. Jill's adrenaline was on a high, her heartbeat pervasively spreading throughout her entire body. She turned around to face Chris, "Thanks. I didn't realize I was that close…" She trailed off, lost, loosing track of her words as she focused on his dark eyes which were no doubt planted on her lips. Chris now doing the realizing let out a huge grunt from his throat, as though he was clearing it, "Don't mention it, besides, what's a partner for if they aren't there to save your ass?"  
"Owe you one." She said with a wink turning around to look at the broken floor in front of her Doc's.  
The floor was completely sunk in, as though something, like Hulk or a super mutant, had a tantrum and smashed the shit out of it. She was hoping she was wrong about the super mutant ordeal, dealing with all things Spencer that was nothing to even consider joking about.  
"How are we going to get across?"  
Jill looked around the area, her brain going over all the little details; then clicking. "It's not we, it's me, and you're going to help me over."  
Chris put his arms over his chest, crossing them, his eyes tensing together with uncertainty, "And how do you figure I do that?"  
"You, Christopher Redfield, are going to help me make the jump by using your macho man muscles." Jill said all too seriously for that sentence, making Chris uncertain whether to act out or be professional.  
_Be professional, Redfield. Just a couple more hours than we are free._  
Chris already knew what he had to do, "An assist jump?" Jill nodded, and he doubtfully looked down at her, "Jill we haven't attempted that in ages."  
"You don't think I know that. Chris, it's our only way and there's no way in hell I could assist _you _over. Now squat." He half smiled not arguing against what he was told to do.

Backing up she calculated the distance mentally. Little did Chris know but Jill had known how to do an assist jump since she was twelve. It was one of the first things Dick had taught her after she started tagging along on his thieving missions. Maybe when all this bullshit was said and done, and they were out and safe Jill would fill him in more on her past. Until then though it was her obligation to stay focused on the task at hand. She readied herself looking at Chris, "Ready when you are."  
He placed his hands at crotch level bending over waiting for her to emerge, "Ready." And with that one word Jill took an un-lengthy run, jumping slightly, one foot landing in Chris's doubled over palm, then allowed her body do the rest. She could feel herself drifting, turning midair, doing another twist she dived down landing rightfully in a perfect landing position. Chris turned seeing the last bit and was majorly impressed by what he saw, Jill hadn't lost her touch that he was certain. She placed her hand on the door twisting the knob, knowing it would be locked, and being somewhat shocked when it opened willingly without any force. She a nod to Chris as she entered the room.

Jill stepped into, none-other than, the open spaced second floor of the dining hall.  
_Surprise, surprise._  
With no time to reminisce or look Jill spoke into her headset as she took a leap for the table. Landing successfully with a light thump she placed her hand on her headset, "Chris, I'm in the dining room." She said as she jumped carefully off the clothed table, with her gun raised she scoped the area, which looked a lot different than its alter ego. The walls on top weren't the dulled creamy marble with a tacky red laced bottom, instead a creamy bright colored marble. The floors weren't black and white tiles, but plain a beige to match the walls with a rug placed underneath the unset dining room table. It was all too much for her to take in at once. There was an old grandfather clock placed on the right, only it wasn't live, and straight across from where she was standing was a fireplace sitting where the other sat. She couldn't lie it was beautiful, but there was still something haunted about the space that made her want to get back to Chris, dis the mission, and get the hell out of range. She turned towards the door and caught glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye, "No…" she mumbled happily to herself, relieved by what she had found, "Look at you." She reached down with welcoming arms to pull in the weapon placed in the right corner at her feet. She patted herself on the shoulder for leaving room on the back of her tactical vest. With a wide excited smile plastered on her face she hit the speak button, "I found a weapon we can use."  
Chris's voice, which sounded more like a robot due to static, came through, "What'd ya find?"  
"I'm no Barry Burton, but, I'm pretty positive it's an M3." She replied, "You want it?"  
"Nah. If we end up coming across another though I call dibs."

Jill turned around facing the fire place walking toward where the blood stain would have been placed if they were still in Raccoon._  
"Barry, look out! It's a monster!" There they stood, eight years ago, her and Barry…horrified by their findings, right there….right in front of that fire place...she was back…back in hell.  
__**Only I'm not, Chris and**__**I are safe for now...we will be okay.**__  
She could see it, coming through the door, coming to eat them. That innocent soul, "LET ME TAKE CARE OF IT!" gun shots, fired from Barry's precious Beretta, BAM BAM, the noise erupted, echoing off the walls of the dining room. "What the hell is it?" Barry's rough voice cut in just as shaken as his younger teammate, staring down at the zombie, "I found Kenneth…killed by this…thing.", they stared down at the rotting ghoul, she could remember its peeling face….the smell of its rotting soured flesh, with seeping clear gooed-ooze pouring out of its missing cheek…Kenneth's blood smeared into its teeth… "We should report this to Captain Wesker." _

Jill closed her eyes, a single tear falling from her cheek_._  
_Wesker…that bastard knew the whole damn time._ _Even with Trent's warning I was too fucking blind to see it. I should have known. I could have prevented it all…I could have saved my teammates right there in that damn copter.  
_Jill wiped the tear and made her way back to the dining hall door. Clearing her throat to compose herself Jill decided to make small talk with Chris so she wouldn't have to feel alone and lost, "Kinda takes you back, doesn't it."  
"To Raccoon City? Unfortunately, yea. That's…" she could hear the hesitation in his voice. They rarely talked about their haunted events, it was their past, and though it horrible they both agreed it okay to bring up but just never could, especially Jill. Chris was at peace with it more or less, it didn't get to him, and with every passing day it got easier to cope. But, Jill was the opposite. Both suffered from PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder), Chris overcame it…Jill still no doubt still suffered on a daily basis, and although she kept it in, Chris knew. He continued, "where all this shit started."  
She sighed, "Hard to believe that was eight years ago."  
She laughed to herself, "I guess I am getting older."  
She could hear the Redfield smirk in his voice as he spoke, "You're not the only one."  
She reached the door twisting it unlocked, opening it to see Chris with a lively look on his face.

She stepped back opening the door for him wider as he stepped in. His jaw dropped, "Holy shit."  
"Tell me about it." She responded closing the door behind him, and walking into the archway opened room beside her, Chris followed. Jill was already at the table placed by the window eyeing something placed upon it. He looked over her shoulder, a book.  
"Anything good?"  
Jill shrugged unknowingly and opened it, "It looks like a diary." She flipped through it noticing tears within the seam, "Looks like some pages are missing…Guess we'll find out."

**Patrick's Memoirs 1**

_For a time, it appeared as if Master Spencer would recover his former health, but fate was not so kind, and now he confines himself to his study for days on end. It has been ages since I have seen him take his meals in the dining hall. I have endeavored to prepare meals to his liking, and I bring them every day to the study. Unfortunately, he lacks the strength to eat anything but soup and other liquids. I cannot recall a time in the history of this household when the situation was as dire as now. In generations past, the Spencer Estate was the nexus for only the most well-to-do European socialites. Now only a skeleton staff remains to look after a man who keeps himself in virtual seclusion at one of his many residences. _

_My family has been in the Spencer household's service since the time of his great grandfather. This rapid state of decline would have been unimaginable even just one generation prior. I remember fondly the days of my youth; but that seems like a lifetime ago now. It was about 50 years ago, back when my father was the head butler of the household. At that time I was learning his duties in preparation to succeed him, and there was always some chore or errand that would keep me running around the house. I remember how Lord Ashford, another aristocrat from a storied family, and one of Master Spencer's schoolmates, Doctor Marcus, would find refuge from the summer heat at this villa. My father and I would accompany them and do our utmost to see that they wanted for nothing. _

_Perhaps because I was the youngest person there, they would take to teasing me. Though, more often than not they would treat me as one of them. I remember the time Lord Ashford gave me my first taste of brandy. It was on the second floor of the dining hall, behind the stone statues lining the room. I will never forget the mellifluous scent when he opened the bottle. But those cherished times are only memories now. Lord Ashford, Doctor Marcus, and of course, my father have all already passed on. Only Master Spencer remains, and I'm afraid his days may be few. When Master Spencer dies, it will mark the end of his illustrious family, as well as my family's service to his. For now, I can only wait for the inevitable. _

Jill skimmed down the untidy writing, picking up on nothing of importance except one. Spencer was weak; meaning with every passing minuet in every hour he would become sicker, and with the writing looking more or less fresh the odds of him being too ill to fight were in their favor. Chris who had no interest in reading was scoping the hall out, he was now by the left door beside the fireplace. He opened the door, it was unlocked.  
"Jill." She turned hearing his rough voice boom through the dining room, "The door on the left far end is unlocked." She was turning faster through the diary, a page stuck to the back. She tilted her head, and yelled back, "Mili-Sec."  
Chris knowing the coded vocabulary that Jill kept knew the one word meant, _"Hold up, found something of interest. Wait on me."  
_"Copy that." He responded knowing that if he didn't Jill would have went into her famous panic mode, because Jill believed every time they split up it was a faulted disaster.  
_And maybe she's not incorrect about that one.  
_Waiting he checked his ammo, although he hadn't used any, it was sort of a nervous habit; smoking just didn't carry the same appeal it once had. Jill on the other hand gently ripped out the part of the diary which wasn't meant to be touched. Looking down at the paper blurring lines, numbers,  
were etched into the paper in black ink. It read: "**_032296_**"  
Pocketing the note which Jill knew would come in handy somewhere down the line, she made her way to Chris who was placing the clip back into his Glock. He turned at the sound of his approaching partner, she gave him a friendly smile which he returned, "Find anything good?"  
She shook her head and pulled out the thin paper, he looked down at it, his lips motioned as if he were saying the six numbers out loud clear as day; this she knew was Chris's way of remembering things.  
He tilted his head to the side giving her a smirk, "Just in case we misplace the damn thing."  
"Of course. Good thinking."  
"As always." He said opening the door, leading the way.

With guns at aim both took point, one posted behind and one in front. Chris leading the way saw the unforgettable room first. Sure, it was a tad bit different. Maybe George didn't stick to the full floor plan after all but it still wasn't enough to drown the memories it washed up like a bad case of acid reflux. The tiny hall led to an open area, a staircase planted on the north side of the wall, and straight ahead was a door. "All clear." Chris muttered, and before he could get the last syllables out of "clear" Jill was turned around and by his side.  
Half the walls were covered in a seamless green vintage pattern, which was peeling rather harshly, the bottom half of the wall was cherry oak wood, the same which was in every other room they had been in so far. _SCREECH, SLAM, SCREECH._  
Both BSAA members were jolted by the sound, looking around, aiming at anything in view. Goosebumps emerged on their tan flesh. The sound making the hairs on the back of their necks stand up. Having both faced millions of B.O.W.S. there was not one that they could pin point the sound to match…it was new…it had to be…but that tortured screech, only one creature…one lost soul, sounded so ungodly. _Lisa Trevor.  
_Jill couldn't find any answers in her startled brain to explain what she was hearing, and she was the only one that came to mind. Did that mean Spencer was experimenting on humans again? A very good possibility…but highly unlikely seeing as how Lisa sure as hell wasn't his favorite "specimen". Or could it mean that Lisa wasn't the only one who had been poked and tortured under umbrellas hand using the Progenitor virus…either way Jill didn't want to stand idle.


	4. Chapter Four: Vivid Reminisce

Thank you all so much for the reviews/follows/&favorites! :)

* * *

Staying silent since the noise erupted into the hallway from the air ducts, Chris and Jill had already scoped out the bathroom, which only held a urinal and med-kit inside, Jill of course pocketed it wishing there was a few more spares lying around knowing that what they had brought might not be enough after hearing the unforgettable blood curling shrills of a tortured soul. They were now making their way up the squeaking stairway that led to one other door, Chris looked at Jill, "Ready?"  
Jill gave a gentle nod and nothing else. Chris opened the door, both swinging in with mad force only to see a monster-less room. Which held a table, a book shelf, a couple chairs, and an older fading brown grand piano in the west corner.  
Catching full sight of the instrument Jill stepped forward allowing her fingers to caress the antique. Jill who had been around pianos her whole life new it had to be at least fifty years old. She traced the ivory keys, putting no pressure, the sound of each and every one playing in her mind mentally. Her Grams had always told her about how the feeling of true ivory gave the purest sound, Jill was skeptical about the accusation but still always wondered. Jill lifted her eyes noticing the music sheets, her eyes locked on the single name, a tingling sensation shot through her body.  
"No." she said out loud more as a whisper and to herself. Chris interested at what the denial sounding "no" was about hurried back to her side looking over her shoulder, _"Beethoven, Moonlight Sonata_" was written on the sheet in front of Jill's gawking stare.  
"Talk about déjà vu…" Jill muttered under un-easy breaths, trying to keep herself in check.  
_It's nothing to get yourself worked up about. It's probably just one of Spencer's favorites._

"I remember the last time I played this." And oh did she; it had been eight years ago.  
"Do you think you can still play it?" Chris didn't want to pry but knew all about Spencer's trickeries. She turned around and faced her partner, "You mean right now?"  
"You remember what happened when you played it back in Raccoon, right?"  
"Of course I do, but I don't know if I can play. It's been awhile."_  
_"Give it a shot?" His dark eyes were pleading with her desperately, and though she didn't want to she decided it best. _Who could say no to Redfield's puppy eyes after all?_

She sat down, her hands marking the target, hitting it precisely the key vibrated beneath her fingertips as the dramatic sinful lullaby graced their ears. It was like magic, like somehow Jill had picked up a small sliver of the soul she had lost back in Raccoon.  
_  
"Now dear, practice makes perfect." An older ladies croaking voice said intellectually. Grams, it was Grams voice. Jill's tiny fingers played the irritating keys back and forth, over and over. It needed to be perfect, she needed to be perfect for her mother, who at the time she thought was on a vacation. __**Little did I know.**__ Jill could always feel the life spread through her body while she played, like a whole different person, with a whole other life. She was writing her adventures through her music, like a poet to his art, a writer to his plot. She was painting her dreams, her hopes, her ambitions, with nothing but her fingertips. It was second nature to Jill, it came naturally. She let it take her away like a castaway, waiting for a tidal wave to breathe word of her last message. The piano was the only grace she was blessed with and after the death of her mother she could never make Dick Valentine understand that._

Jill didn't even notice the secret passage open behind her. Chris not knowing how long it would stay  
swiftly ran in snatching the blue crested emblem, then turning right back out as fast as humanly possible. Jill who was still playing, lost in her own little world jumped when Chris tapped on her shoulder.  
"You okay?" He asked worried, studying her confused expression  
"Yeah." She said, standing up fully waking herself from the flashbacked daydream. Which left a nasty aftertaste in her mouth, "I'm fine." She lied.  
He held up the blue crest, and Jill gave him a look of gratefulness, "Good job there, Redfield."  
He let out a tired chuckle, "Not so bad yourself, Valentine."

Being rather cautious Jill opened the west door on the second floor. A pregnant silence lingering between the two. Maybe it was because the night was no longer young, Chris guessed it was probably one in the morning by now and they had only came up with a piece of paper with random numbers, and some already presentable information.  
The hallway felt to be never ending, it was gloomy and by the way the lamp at the far end was flickering it would be pitch black if they didn't hurry. Jill speeding up as Chris pushed passed the un-hung framed photos on the wall tripped hitting the hardwood floor, spinning on his heels Chris turned around at the sound of her fall. "Shit." An overly frustrated Valentine sighed.  
Back tracking two feet Chris held out his hand for her, "You okay?" She grabbed onto his gloved hand, without hesitation as he pulled her up, "Yeah. But, you seem to be asking me that a lot?" she stated as she dusted herself off, "Are you okay?"  
He turned away from her, before he could take a step she pulled his face back to look at her, "Tell me."  
Chris looked down on Jill, not knowing what to say. He couldn't stop his damn obsessed mind from lingering over the fantasies of a future with her outside of the BSAA. How could he admit that after hearing that creature his heart was tearing at the fact that neither of them might not come out of this estate alive.  
"Please…" She whispered, it sounded like a plea, a whimper. Was she thinking the same as him?  
He swallowed back all the things he wanted to say, all the things he needed to say, and as he did he dropped his gaze from those consuming crystal clear eyes because staring into them was driving him insane. Around that time the lamp shut off, the hallway faded away, dimmer, and dimmer until pure blackness surrounded them. _Saved by the bell?_  
"I'm okay Jill, just tired." He answered detached.  
_This damn girl will be the death of me.  
_  
No words could describe the feeling Jill had gotten by his impassiveness. It made her all the more exasperated. Why couldn't he ever just let her in? Eight years with this man and she couldn't shake his isolating, loner ways. He always is the first to jump in and crown her stubborn when in reality he was just as bad as her. She growled silently, Chris heard but shook it off staying silent as she slid past him. Her body just the right size to squeeze by him and the randomly placed dresser.  
Jill grabbed the flashlight out of her utility belt. Why they hadn't used it in the first place? She couldn't tell you. All she knew was that every bone in her body wanted to fight him, and the other just wanted to be soaking in a bubble bath drinking wine. None of her wanted to be here, but she was and that meant she had to keep it together because the moment she decided to let it all out it would come plummeting. All the feelings, all her fears, would be overwhelming, swarming upon their bodies like a flash flood. Taking a deep breath Jill turned off her absurd thoughts. Turning around she flashed the bright light on Chris's face, his jaw tight and dark eyes locked on her shadow like feature. She decided it best to break the ice, "You coming or not, Redfield?"  
Releasing the unsure breath he was holding in, he looked at her. By the way she looked he could tell she was still severely pissed at him and hurt. Jill never was one for holding grudges or finding tension exciting, knowing this Chris dropped any intention of being temperamental with her. He faked a smile for her sake, "Count me in."

Finally reaching the door the unruly hallway led to, Jill stepped in. It was a bedroom, just like they had seen before, nothing special. On the plus side it didn't reek of death, and no zombie was trying their damndest to break down the door to get out of the wardrobe. Believe it or not it was a relief for the duo. "Spencer's not all about upkeep is he?" Jill said trying to keep a conversation going as she traced the part that was peeling down the bluing-grey wallpaper.  
Chris let out a deep sarcastic chuckle, "It's the price he pays for experimenting on all his help."  
Jill hit him on the shoulder playfully, the ice fully melting as the tension seized to nothing. She walked over to the bookshelf, searching the titles, looking for anything out of the unordinary but found nothing.  
"Jill." Chris said his tone odd, she turned worried to see Chris staring down wide eyed, a black book cupped in his fingerless gloved hands. She walked back over to the side of the room he was on, already dreading whatever it was, "What is it?"  
He handed the leather covered book down to her. Another diary. She looked inside, reading it, her brow furrowed in a horrified manner.

**_May 9, 1998_**_  
Played poker tonight with Scott and Alias from Security, and Steve from Research. Steve was the big winner, but I think he was cheating. That scumbag._

**_May 10, 1998  
_**_One of the higher-ups assigned me to take care of a new creature. It looks like a skinned gorilla to me. Scott said there'd been an accident in the basement lab. I just knew something like this would happen. Those bastards in Research never sleep, not even on holidays._

**_May 12, 1998  
_**_I've been wearing this damn space suit since yesterday. My skin's getting grimy and feels itch all over._

**_May 16, 1998  
_**_A rumor is going around that a researcher who tried to escape the estate last night was shot. My entire body feels hot and itchy and I'm sweating all the time now. I scratched the swelling on my arm and a piece of rotten flesh just dropped off. What the hell's happening to me?_

**_May 19, 1998  
_**_fever gone but itchy__**  
**__today hungry and eat doggie food_

**_4/_**

_itchy_

_tasty_

The book dropped from Jill's hand as she tried to fathom how the hell that wasn't disintegrated dust along with the rest of the Raccoon Mansion. She could only look at Chris her mouth open wide, staring at his sullen face. Reaching down anguished she picked up the tormented book as Chris, who had enough with mysteries for the night, continued to search the room more thoroughly. There was no torn out pages, and even if it wasn't the exact same diary why the hell would there be a replication? Could it have been some twisted infatuation Spencer had with keeping morbid souvenirs? Jill wasn't sure, and hated herself for how out of whack her emotions had been tonight_. Of all nights.  
_Jill who was usually calm and collected never actual was. Her father who had taught her many things, out of all the most important was, "_Never show your fear in the face of an enemy, for it will be your downfall, Jilly."_ Therefore anytime Jill had felt the need to run and hide, she masked her face with serenity disguising her weaknesses fighting all her it had been hard, being raised by a professional thief did have its perks.

"Hey Jill." Chris said, "Look what I found."  
Jill looked up from the diary, sliding her hand across the front cover, to look at Chris who had found an S75 Rifle. She shook her head in disbelief, a beaming grin spread across her face, "You lucky bastard." He lifted a cocky brow jokingly, "I know. If only you would have handed over that M3."  
"If only, Redfield." She sighed playfully, "If only."  
Chris placed the rifle on the back of his tactical belt, as Jill turned her full attention back to the diary, the rough cover on the back sliding against her palm. She furrowed her brows in wonder as she flipped it over. By doing so she noticed a very clean cut within the hinge of the diary, the back a slick black fabric not leather. Slipping out her knife she cut the faultless stiches and as she did six numbers were revealed chiseled into the cardboard base; **"030509"** was bolded with pen ink, looking closer she saw something else, the letter **"-T"**. _Oh Trent, you sneaky bastard  
_"Who knew he'd really stick with the good guys." Jill commented, more to herself than to Chris, as she tore the back off the diary. Chris who was checking the drawers of the cabinet looked over at Jill, wondering if she was losing her mind, "Jill? What are you talking about?"  
She walked around the bed to where Chris was, holding the cardboard out to him. Looking down he got what Jill was talking about, "Makes you wonder what Umbrella did to him, doesn't it?"  
"What haven't they done, Chris? I mean, look at us."  
He shook his head in agreement, "Without him though we would have never made it this far."  
"We'd be dead."  
"Way to darken the tone there, Jill." Chris said his tone more somber than he would've liked it to be. Feeling bad he gave her a friendly pat on the back as he moved past her to the door. Jill couldn't stand the rising tension between them. She knew that he was faking it, he was hurt by the comment and she wished she would have just bit her tongue. But why was he hurt? It was only the truth. They would be dead without Trent, or maybe, unthinkably, even worse. He gave her all the answers she needed to help her and her teammates escape the hell of the Spencer Mansion, helped Carlos and her out of Raccoon only minutes before it imploded to ash, gave them hard facts and information on how to take down the final Umbrella Facility stronghold in Russia, not to mention all the times he stepped in and protected their friends and family. Trent was a hero, and though her gut told her not to trust him she did with her and her partner's lives.  
_Maybe he's on edge because we could easily die here?_ _Or maybe, just maybe…no…there was no way Chris was jealous? Right… he couldn't be? _

* * *

**July 5, 2006 12:41 AM**

Wesker stepped into his clammy unlit apartment. After kicking off his boots by the entrance, and dropping his keys on the table beside the door, he turned around pressing the ten digit code which placed his whole living space on lock down. Not needing any sort of light to lead his way Wesker continued into his office, closing the door behind him. The disarrayed room was a tinted auburn; lit by the streetlights outside his opened window. Books, files, and important documents were scattered in a disorderly way that made even Wesker cringe. The last week has been a brutal transition, and Wesker who was rather fastidious had slipped letting the tiny area pay the price. At the moment though he could care less.  
Opening up his laptop he pressed down on the power button. Tapping his feet in an anxious manner he awaited for the damn accesses screen to pop up. Holding the hard drive in his hand, he let his bare fingers rub against the plastic. His eyes glancing down at the clock, his impatience growing stronger. He wanted to throw the electronic out the window, punish it for making him wait, but what would that do? Nothing, and Wesker knew that. He held his breath trying to relax himself. He wasn't in control, and that was ripping his insides to shreds. Eight years, eight fucking years without one damn emotion and now this. Growling in frustration he through his shades to the ground, pinching the part of his nose between his glowing, reddening cat eyes; closing them. He was going to burst with fury, his head pounding with emotion rising within him like an erupting volcano. He could hear his rapid pulse through his ears, the same buzzing from earlier like a frantic alarm clock he couldn't disable. Without a doubt Wesker knew that all he lived for was dying. He knew what he was becoming, hating himself with a dying passion. _Weak. Human.  
_  
A white burst of light shined upon his chiseled pale face, his eyes seeing it behind tightly closed lids; he opened them eagerly. His fingers moved at the speed of light as he hastily typed in his password. He then placed the hard drive into his USB port, and to his desire the folder opened itself forthwith. Without him even noticing all the uncontainable rage he was holding in drained out his body; it now replaced by a gratifying delight, his eyes returning to their regular topaz shade. If he had been human he would've been diagnosed with a bi-polar disorder.  
A new habit made itself present as he started biting down on the inside of his lip, focusing on the oddly named files placed in front of his hard gaze; only one in particular caught his eye, it was labeled "Report on Project W". Double clicking the document opened, it took its place on his screen. Wasting no time he began soaking in the information.

**_August 28, 1998_**,

_It has been confirmed that the accident at the Raccoon City Arklay Research Facility was due to the involvement of Project W test subject No. 013 (hereafter referred to as Albert). His death in the accident has made obtaining any further information an impossibility. (Albert's death was confirmed by the Information Department.) _

_Albert's death puts the current success rate of Project W down to 18 percent. The quota of qualified individuals for the project has been drastically reduced and must be addressed immediately. This poses a grave situation for any progress that can hope to be made in the project. Since there is no roster of qualified individuals to replace the recent losses, it would be advisable to start selecting individuals from the pool of failed candidates. _

_After this, adjustments can be made that will restore up to 93 percent of the quota prior to Albert's death. _

**_Umbrella Information Department_**_  
_**_Alex W._**

Mindlessly Wesker hit "x" in the right hand corner, he clicked on a folder which read "W Report 98". Before his eyes a list appeared in front of him.

**_PROJECT W STATUS REPORT 1998-_**__

_**NO. 001**__ Derek Wesker (deceased)  
__**NO. 002**__ Felicia Wesker (deceased)  
__**NO. 003**__ Hans Wesker (deceased)  
__**NO. 004**__ Hiro Wesker (deceased)  
__** NO. 005**__ Irma Wesker (deceased)  
__**NO. 006**__ Jonah Wesker (deceased)  
__** NO. 007**__ Ken Wesker (deceased)  
__**NO. 008**__ Laura Wesker (deceased)  
__**NO. 009**__ Marco Wesker (deceased)__  
__**NO. 010**__ Miles Wesker (deceased)  
__**NO. 011**__ William Wesker (deceased)__  
_******_NO. 012_**_Alex Wesker (unknown)  
__** NO. 013**__ Albert Wesker (deceased)_

Ozwell E. Spencer

His jaw tensed tightly; his blonde eyebrows drawn into perplexity. His mind not knowing which emotion to feed him at the time given. Rage? Sorrow? Disgust? He was in some state of shock, a numbness, something his mind hadn't dealt with since 1998. Not knowing for the first time in years what to do, Wesker clicked on the file named "Information". Now knowing without a doubt in his mind that he needed to get ahold of Ms. Wong.

* * *

**PRESENT TIME**:

Placing the blue crest into its destination they stepped inside the east wing of the downstairs. Both hesitating to hold their breath as the undeniable smell of dying flesh reached their nostrils. Thunder rumbled and cracked in the distance. The pure blaze of the shimmering moonlight which laid above of the mansion poured into the windows placed on the right hand side, casting a beautiful glow within the tainted hallway. Chris who was holding his breath made a "Lets move" signal to Jill, she nodded holding her breath as well, as she followed behind her partner. Both thought it best not to talk, Chris made the hand signal stating that Jill should aim low, and he high just in case whatever was producing that foul odder was around the corner. Jill nodded squatting to the ground. Chris raised his hand, counting down from three. 1…2…3, both swinging in aiming their guns into yet another clear of danger hallway. They exchanged looks and Jill stood up, pointing to the vent above their heads as she spoke, "Whatever it is the smell is coming from there."  
Chris looked up, relieved, but still knowing that whatever it was they were sure to meet it soon, "With our luck we will still find the source."  
"Isn't that the truth." Jill said as they reached a handless door at the end of the hallway, Chris raised his gun high turning right as he noticed the hallway continued on, then dropping it a second later, "Clear." He said, then turned back looking down to see Jill grabbing something out of her belt.  
_There she goes again.  
_ Wiggling a much smaller picklock into the keyhole; she pushed in with mild pressure, a click sounding. Her job was complete; oh how she loved the feeling of succession.  
"You haven't lost your touch." Chris commented, as she stood up shooting him an accomplished, breath taking, yet cocky, sort of look  
"A woman never loses her touch."  
That statement sent Chris's mind straight back into the prison cell of his fantasy hell. Though Jill said it ever so innocently, it still was enough for the dirty picture show to play before his eyes. Letting out a deep gruff he helped Jill kick down the door. Cursing himself.

An office space laid before them; everything was a forest shade of green, the wallpaper, the floor, and a random curtain placed on the east wall. Maybe it was due to the horrible lighting? Which seemed to be a repeating aggravation. The back wall was aligned with book cases that stood from the floor up, a filthy wooden unkempt desk set dead center. Before Chris could even make a move Jill was standing over top the computer, looking down at her phone. Like always, due to Jill usually never feeling him in until after everything's said and done; which was possibly because he had been severely protective over her as of late. He made his way over to the desk, curious as to what she had up her sleeve.  
A green screen shined brightly on her features, Chris noticed that her pale blue eyes reflected the shade flawlessly. Feeling his gaze she looked from the now black screen to him, "What?"  
He shook the question off, then nodded down to the phone in her hand, "What are you doing?"  
Purposely she through his ceasing ways to the side, answering his question instead, "I got a text the other night from a blocked number. I shrugged it off thinking it might've been a miscommunication. But, after finding the two, six numbered pages with passcodes the text meant since."  
She pulled up the text then handed her phone over to Chris who looked down at the instant message screen; reading the message which it displayed.

**Blocked Number**

_- eighteen in all, find two, here's one. 112655 Give me the peace of death, and I'll give you the joy of life._

"Well, he's not a cryptic as he used to be." Chris said handing Jill's phone back to her. As Chris memorized the last code Jill placed the phone on the desk. She got the other two codes out of her pocket wishing she had Chris's gift of memorization, unlike him she had the memory of a gold fish.  
Jill looked at them, "The question is, what order do they go in?"  
Both studied the codes, Chris mumbled them out loud to himself, and by doing so Jill's mind finally clicked, "Their dates!" She said with a gleeful tone. _The mansion, the crows, the portrait puzzle. _Why hadn't she figured that out sooner? It now made since as to why she couldn't get the familiar chilling quote out of her head the night she received the text.  
"That still doesn't give us much to go on."  
"Oh but it does." Jill chimed in throwing Chris's exhausted voice astray, "One of the first puzzles I came across had to do with life and death. There were several portraits which started from the stage of an infant to the afterlife. There were switches below each one, and I had to push them in order throughout all the stages of life."  
Chris stared into space for a moment, still feeling something wasn't right, but what else did they have to go on? His mind was blank, and he believed in Jill.  
"That would mean…112655, 032296, 030509, Right?"  
"I would think so." Jill said looking up at Chris hoping he would give her all the answers she needed to cope. She couldn't knock the feeling away that something would go wrong, the angry butterflies fluttered in her stomach as Chris shook his head, urging her to proceed. She swallowed harshly, her mouth drying with apprehensiveness.  
_Here goes nothing._

Typing in all eighteen digits she hit enter, both ready to take cover behind the desk if anything went wrong. Without any hesitancy the computer accepted the password, making the duos insides dance with exhilaration. The screen flashed green once more, then black in less than a second. The Umbrella Corp logo circled, loading in the information which was held on the computer, then made its way to the right hand corner. A document making itself known,

**Patrick's Memoir, Page (1/2)**

_I have been in Master Spencer's employ for the majority of my adult life. As of late, however, I find his actions to be inscrutable. For example, he has taken every possible precaution to conceal his whereabouts from the outside world. For what reason, I do not know. Then one day he asks me to find a certain man and make him aware of the master's whereabouts. I do not know why he would go to such lengths to contact this man, but perhaps he wanted to see if someone could find him. The man in question is one Albert Wesker, a name I have not heard in quite a long time. I only met him once, and that was over ten years ago._

_I am ashamed to admit that I cannot recall his face, because as head butler, it is my job to remember people. The reason, I believe, is because of his eyes-those cold, unfeeling eyes that completely overshadowed his other features. At any rate, I have endeavored to get the information into Wesker's hands without letting on that it was Master Spencer's desire that he have that information. I know of a certain unscrupulous individual who could put the information on the streets, for the right price. He is the kind that does not care who he talks to. What made the individual I found of such importance is that he is in the employ of a female spy who has regular dealings with Wesker._

_I paid this man (I forget if his name was Roberto or Ricardo) more than he deserved and gave him the bare minimum of information necessary to fulfill Master Spencer's wishes. I dutifully carried out Master Spencer's directions to the letter. It was at this point that the situation took an even more cryptic turn. The master, he let me go, but I do not know why. I asked him for a reason-the only time I have ever questioned him-but he responded with only silence._

_I do not know what to do now. I am filled with a sense of loss. Everything I have ever known is gone. I dedicated my entire life to serving the Spencer household, and now that book has been forcibly closed for no apparent reason. The only ones who remain will be those untrustworthy security guards and the people imprisoned below the premises. I truly doubt the guard's ability to attend to all of Master Spencer's needs. Could it be that he plans on dying? No! He is not that type of man. He would not want to leave all his affairs in such an unfinished state. Master Spencer must have some grand machinations at work that are beyond my ability to understand. At any rate, I can only obey his wishes and take my leave. I will be loyal until the end, even if it breaks my heart to do so._

__Scrolling down, they continued to read.

**_Patrick's Memoir, Page (1/2)_**

**_Test Subjects_**

**_001:_**_Hans__**  
002:**__ Felicia__**  
003: **__Marco__**  
004:**__ Jonah__**  
005:**__ Irma__**  
006:**__ Ken__**  
007:**__ Laura__**  
008:**__ William__**  
009:**__ Hiro__**  
010:**__ Derek__**  
011:**__ Miles__**  
012:**__ Alex__**  
013:**__ Albert_

_The number of candidates has been limited to the 13 individuals listed above._

Looking from the screen to each other, not knowing how to feel about the documents they had just read. The last one mainly interesting them.  
"Albert as in Albert Wesker? A test subject?" Jill asked, a screeching noise emerging from the west. Unprepared they both jumped, but took aim at the opening entrance.  
Making their way to the opening. Scoping it out, nothing out seemed out of the ordinary and they mindlessly stepped inside. Making no more than two steps each a noise sounded again but faster in tempo. Chris out of the corner of his eye seen the gate closing back down, trying to trap them.  
_Jill._  
Without question his first instinct was to throw Jill out of harm's way, shoving her rather roughly out of the enclosing room; protecting her from whatever hell was about to be unleashed. The sound of a turning wheel shook the room, dust fell from the ceiling and Chris looked up. It was a ploy, he was going to die.


	5. Chapter Five: Unbreakable

**_First off I'd like to give a very special thanks to Lili-Mai & Shantty for all the kind words and reviews! Secondly, I'm sorry it took so long to update. This chapter has literally drained the life out of me. D: I've been writing it since Sunday. Then last night finally got it to the point where I really felt comfortable enough to edit the mistakes, add in things, and so on! I really hope you all enjoy this chapter! Also, feel free to leave reviews, fav, or even PM me! :) :D Another update will be posted early next week!_**

* * *

****

**January 19, 1998 7:51 AM****  
**__

The clock clicked by slowly, a second feeling like hours in the stuffy un-air-conditioned S.T.A.R.S. office. For the first time in months Chris Redfield was early for a briefing. He was never late, yet never precisely there on the dot either; the streets had been clean for months, or at least nothing the Alpha's needed to be called in for; knowing this he never seen the point in an early arrival. Until today that is.

After leaving the Air Force Chris decided it best to stay in check with his daily routine. Wake up, brush his teeth, shower, shave, and grab something quick and easy to eat; which replaced making breakfast for an underage Claire. Before walking out of his apartment he would check the mailbox, then head straight for the line of duty. It was clockwork, it worked.

It was just one of those days where you woke up knowing nothing would go as planned.  
Waking up first thing a groggy Chris slammed the back of his scalp on his head board, and that's not the worst of it…  
Not even a second into shaving his five o' clock shadow, he nicked his neck in several places; the worst a cat like scratch that noticeably sat over his Adams apple. He put a slice of bread in the toaster setting its heat to high; as he waited he looked over some work files. Getting caught up in his reading he forgot all about the toast walking out his front door; forgetting his keys as well.

Chris made it all the way down to the first floor of the condo complex; reaching the mail room. Feeling in his pockets for his keys he realized they were still on the table up stairs with his now burnt to shit toast. How the hell could one be so absent minded? Turning to re-trace his steps, he made his way back to his condo hoping this time not to add his head to the list of things forgotten.

Back on track, he had grabbed the toast (which was slightly done, but still eatable), grabbed his mail, and was now sitting comfortably in his truck going through the pile of mail which laid lazily in his lap. Reading to himself, throwing the junk mail in the passenger seat, he came across something which sent his blood pressure through the roof. It was a letter from ESU, the college which Claire attended, stating she had maxed her student loans and would have to pay in full for next year's college classes. What was he going to do? He already had Claire working between classes to pay for her needs while he paid her rent. And though the money he made was rather good, paying for two households wasn't giving him room to breathe finically. Having her quit after her first year would not under any circumstance be an option regardless of how bad he suffered. His little sister deserved the best, and that is what he would give her; because god knows their parents never did.

Sure, Chris and Claire Redfield came from a picture perfect family; not one single hair out of place. Jenna Redfield was an artistic florist, she took pride in all things that smelt like spring air. On top of other things, she was an exquisite cook, which Chris thankfully took after her in; heaven help Claire. She was a grade A+ mother who mostly put her kids first depending on the situation. Christian Redfield, on the other hand, was a business man, taking pride in only his profits. He was the bread winner of the family which allowed them to keep their house on the corner of Blueberry Ridge. The two story house a pale yellow, decorated with cream shutters, along the property line a white picket fence and an all too colorful garden.

Little did everyone in their small town know, it was all for show. Maybe, just maybe, if you ignored the father's weekly affairs, and the mothers hysterical drinking; which eventually led to getting both parent's killed in the end, they would still be pushing the "perfect" factor. Chris could still recall the late night tears his mother shed, being too young to understand what was happening, soothing her the best he could while cradling the younger Redfield in his small arms. He still found himself regularly thinking upon their parent's physical and mental abuse, which thankfully both children never saw, because it much like their life was hidden behind locked doors; though that didn't mean they couldn't see or hear the proof.

On top of it all they were in debt over their heads; so, when his mother decided to drive after those four shots of tequila, and "accidentally" crash herself and cheating husband off the side of a hill, all of that shit got poured onto their oldest child. Meaning a seventeen year old Christopher Redfield, who was already working two half-time job's, had to step up to the plate to pay off his parents debts (Which almost nine years later still had him in the hole.), and most importantly care for Claire as he always had; promising to never fail her as they did.

Chris never complained or tried seeking pity in others. He swallowed it all down like a bitter-pill, because if he didn't he wouldn't be the strong level-headed sibling his sister needed. But, why was he waiting at his desk so early, and not hanging out with Frost and Vickers (like he usually was); getting some good laughs in before work? It's not like he could talk their newest impassive Captain, Albert Wesker, into giving him a much needed raise; which he knew he didn't deserve seeing as how he had only been doing paper work the past two weeks.

He could ask for a side job within the office? That wouldn't be as bad as asking for a raise felt. The eldest Redfield couldn't help but feel lost inside himself. No matter how hard he tried to escape his past it always found a way to bite him in the ass.

Finally, the clock above the Captain's desk hit 0800. Hearing chatter from the hallway he didn't have to turn around to know Wesker would be the one making slight conversation with whomever. He too, much like Chris, kept to his routine, always entirely on time; never a minuet late. Turning as he heard two sets of boots step into the cramped office; seeing a stunning woman walk in behind Wesker.

She was petite compared to the size of Wesker. Standing about five 'five, her body surely athletic; Chris could tell by her sculpted arms that she hit the gym at least a couple times a week. Her hair was a light milk chocolate, barely passing her chin. Even in the horrible lighting, her eyes shined this mesmerizing blue, which silvered as it neared the iris. She was like a dream, which hit him hard, kicking him moments out of reality.

"Redfield, you're early." Wesker spoke, his tone showing no emotion toward the comment.  
Chris's hazel eyes still locked on her, she shifted, his infatuated gaze making her uncomfortable. He looked away realizing that Wesker was speaking to him  
"Yes'sir." He replied, "I was actually needing to talk with you."  
Wesker didn't look Chris's way as he walked by, the brunette followed looking back and forth between the two men, interested to know what the stale air between them was.

Wesker took his seat, his demeanor frozen. A look of annoyance casted upon his features and there was something else...something different about the man's appearance. His hair the same, his face…focusing Chris noticed when Wesker looked back, glowering at Chris's gawking eyes. _**That was it**__…They were looking at one another; no tinted plastic covering his narrowed blue eyes.  
__**Guess he's not a Cyberman after all.**___

She ran her fingers through her short thick hair, cumbersomely taking in their conversation. It wasn't heated, but she didn't find it normal either; it was odd, hard to explain even. Observing both men, she first focused on her new Captain who had already made it more than clear that he was ambitious about his job. When they were talking minuets ago, every time she would stray the topic of conversation away from the work discussion on hand he would get distant, skeptically irritated with her retorting back to, well of course, the job.

Being a thief's daughter made her pick up on things most people wouldn't acknowledge, for example, that accent? Where was he from? When she asked? He answered ever so simply, "America, of course." No…she could tell by the way he let every word pass through his lips, allowing himself to truly feel the vibration his tongue released, as if he was cloaking it; a disguise perhaps? Which didn't make sense to her at the time. Why would he fake an American accent? That was the question at hand. Though it wouldn't be smart to pry. After all he was the one who got her the job in the first place.

Concluding her thoughts on Wesker, she switched to the younger man who looked drained mentally; as if he was carrying the weight of the world at his back. Strangely enough she couldn't put a finger on a single thing about him. Sure, Wesker wasn't an open book, but, this Redfield guy was a bigger mystery to her…and those looks he was giving her, made her feel wanted…in some way, sexual or not; she hadn't figured out. It was always a good feeling to know someone found her attractive, or maybe she was wrong and he was actually repulsed by her presence? Either way Jill had to know. He was intriguing.

Wesker questioned the fellow S.T.A.R.S. member, as Jill lingered silently by his desk, "About?"  
Chris hated to ask Wesker, he didn't want too, especially in the presences of the angelic woman. He was too proud, and though he fucking despised it, that's how he was raised. Now was his chance, and he doubted he would get another, kicking old habits he bit the bullet…_**fucking shit**_

_"Sir, I hate to ask but, is there any jobs I could do on the side for extra payment?"  
Wesker who seemed to ignore the question completely, dropping his gaze down to look at a paper on his desk answered, "I'm afraid that's a question for Iron's, Redfield."  
Chris should've known that's the way it would go, he nodded respectfully to his Captain instead of responding. Standing up he made his way to the door, as Wesker signed off on a paper, sliding it in the ladies direction._

_He cursed himself as he made his way down to speak with Iron's. Why hadn't he went to him in the first place? Was that supposed to be a trick question? Chris mentally laughed at himself.  
__**Wesker was your only hope, Iron's sure as hell won't have anything for you seeing as how the sketchy bastard has been keeping the extra RPD funding to himself.**_

_It was true, and everyone knew it fact; keeping their mouths shut for the sake of their job because although the evidence was staring them blindly in the face, no one would listen. Iron's was into too deep politically, and friends with all the right people. Sure, Captain Wesker might have been inscrutable, but he had respect for his workers, something no one could say for Iron's whose breath smelt like whiskey after a long day at the office. __**Damn Drunk.  
**___

Chris continued to walk down the narrow hallway. Weighing his options, the sound of running footsteps forced their way up behind him, "Hey, wait up." A woman's voice yelled.  
He stopped and waited for the lady. Finally feeling her presence beside him he turned, staring down; completely oblivious to the fact that with given time she would be his soul partner.

She held out her hand, "Jill Valentine." Her voice reported boldly; he could tell by the way she carried herself that there wasn't a shard of self-consciousness in her bones.  
Taking the smaller, much softer hand in his he shook it, "Redfield. Chris Redfield."  
Their eyes locked, and Chris could have sworn he seen the world in hers. It was like he inhaled her in some way, giving him a dose of her soul. From that point on, he could feel her swarming like a liquid lust in his veins; through his bloodstream, and into the very depth of his heart.

There was no such thing as love at first sight, but damn, he couldn't help himself; he was captivated. She held this heart-stopping elegance he had never seen before. Seven seconds, seven seconds is all it takes to make a first impression on another being, and it only took her one.

The question was, what would be her last?

* * *

__

**PRESENT DAY  
August 29, 2006 2:14 AM**

Jill ignored the stinging which emerged from her hands as she tightened her grip on the metal bars; the soft leather chaffing her clammy hands. Her eyes were locked on the blood coated spikes, watching timelessly as the fluid dripped down on Chris's panicked features. The crimson liquid was splattered all over the vile walls. Why hadn't they noticed? It all happened to fast for either one of them to prepare, to even take into consideration they were walking into a trap.

All his senses were peaked to their max. He could taste the sweat which soaked his face, his heart joining the anthem of the body cracking trap that lay above. His head pounding as the picture show played out in his head. His brain swelling, his arteries combusting under the grip of a pointed spike, the horrible expression on Jill's face as he looked at her, suffering to draw his last breath.

Would he die before it fully enclosed on him? Would he feel the pressure of his bones breaking, one by one until it all faded away? His mind scrambled, his emotions numbing to a dull halt as though he didn't own his subconscious anymore. Maybe it was the terror? Maybe his body was throwing up a shield, protecting him from his approaching fate? Or maybe it was for Jill? It was surreal, all the shit that he put himself through and this, a fucking death trap would be his final moment? It was like everything turned a shade of grey in an instant; his life flashed before his eyes. The room spun, turning with it…A lever…his eyes saw..._a lever?_ It was too simple, right? Was his mind playing tricks on him as well? He shook his head as to wake himself up.

"Chris!" Jill shrilled, her pulse beating madly against her chest, like a trapped animal mauling to escape.  
He turned around pulling himself out of his mind glitch, grabbing hopelessly at all the composure he could muster. His gaze was the calmest she had witnessed all night. He needed to touch her, to soothe her, to tell her everything would be alright…but how could he if he didn't know what the outcome of this loathsome moment in time would be?

Chris summed up that his mind wasn't playing tricks on him, knowing this he knew the lever placed on the opposing wall was his only chance at survival. Squeezing his fingerless gloved hand between the bar he allowed his naked fingers to lightly brush Jill's cheek; hoping in some way to bring ease to the situation, not giving a shit if she knew how he felt. Sure, he was horrified, but nothing compared to what Jill had to be feeling and for that she needed him. He couldn't leave her, not alone…not in this hell.

"Jill, I see a lever…it's in a room across from me, you'll have to get in there and pull it down."  
Her frantic mind jumped recklessly from thought to thought; his hand touching her. Warmth. If she failed him he would be die, turning cold; the lever, how did he know it would work? What if it didn't? What would she do this far in without her partner? She couldn't manage alone. Unbearable.  
_I can't do this. Oh god, I can't let him die…focus, I've got to focus._

Her shivering lips moved without her brains acknowledgement; her survival mode kicking in, "How do you know it will work?"  
His eyes looked deeper into her, they were shaded brown; reflecting off his surroundings. She couldn't feel her breath escape her body. A second, feeling like hours passed, "I don't." he finally muttered.  
She grabbed his hand, holding it tightly. Her lips brushing slightly against his fingers, placing a farewell kiss upon them, before she turned to leave him; just in case.  
In that moment, Chris knew then and there that Jill had felt the same. No doubt in his mind, she loved him.

She ran for the door, hoping it too hadn't locked from the outside; that would be their luck of course. Reaching for the knob she realized she had no clue where the hell she was actually going. Sure it was in front of him, but how was she going to get to it, "Where is it?" she asked.

"When you exit make a left, follow the hallway down and there will be a door." He added quickly, she opened the door, "And Jill." She turned, he looked so vulnerable, "Please, be careful."  
She nodded, one last gaze exchanged between the two as she walked out.

Chris looked around the small room, scoping around for anything suspicious, trying his best to keep his mind off reality. He saw a glimmer, like foil. Placing his full attention in the direction he noticed a safe built into the wall. _What the hell?  
_Crouching slightly, so not to touch the spikes, he made his way to it. It was open, someone must have been here only hours before him.  
_Whoever's blood this is must have pried the damn thing open just before he died.  
_Opening it up fully, a crank laid inside the vault. He smiled satirically to himself.  
_A key placed inside a death trap to yet another. How ironic._

She ran as fast as she could; the weight of her body feeling twice its size on her tired legs.  
Hitting the door with full impact, she opened it. Having no time to stop and take in her surroundings, she made her way to the back. Finding a closed rusted door. She placed her hand on the bar, pushing in with all her might. She began to kick it wildly, screaming as if she had lost her mind. It wouldn't open.  
_Breathe, if you want Chris to live you have to relax. Being dramatic won't help your situation, Jilly.  
_  
Taking a breath, she placed her finger on her headset, "Chris. I can't open the door."  
No response, "Chris!" her voice desperately weaker than before. An unpleasant balmy moistness of vomit filled her mouth, her stomach turned with guilt as the bile made its way up.  
_It should have been me.  
_  
"Shooting the lock now." His ravishing voice sounded through her ear piece; like nothing she had ever heard before, "Stand back."  
She stood back, her adrenaline keeping her at bay from a breakdown, the nausea ceasing. Two explosive shots pierced the metal. Jill kicked the door as hard as humanly possible; swinging open it revealed the lever.

A barred window sat in front of her, and there he hunkered, the ceiling only inches away.  
Seeing her face he moved to the window. Their faces divided but close enough to touch. If by any chance the lever only speed things up Chris wanted his very last sight to be her alluring features, those silver water irises; perfection. Praying to whatever god that would listen to her pleas; Jill put weight down on the lever.

Chris wanted to say it, those three words which held a million. He wanted to tell her all about how much her smile lit up his life, how her laugh consumed his every thought. How looking in her eyes made everything alright, even if they were in the wake of hell. It was her, it was always her; and he loved her.

He always wondered what they would have been if they had met in an alternate, non-biohazard universe. In a coffee shop perhaps? Getting her number minuets deep into a random conversation. That night he would stare at the number pad for hours nervous as to what she would say when he asked her out. She would keep her phone on her at all times, her heart kick-starting at a rapid rate every time the phone rang; finally it would be him. She would wait, two rings, then pick up the phone. He would ask, she would more than happily agree.  
The very next night he would pick her up at seven with flowers and chocolates, like some cheesy comedy romance flick he'd studied hopelessly the night before. She would wear that blue dress which made her eyes pop, her lips stained; a light pink. He would pull her in for a hug, smelling that sweet vanilla fragrance on the side of her neck. It would drive him wild, but he, being a gentleman, would instead place his hand in hers and guide her to his car. He would open the door for her, and stare down at her beauty before closing the door.  
He would take her somewhere nice, maybe that fancy restraunt on the corner of Main Street? Dim lights would surrounded them, a candle front and center, lighting her soft features, his handsome face; as they made subtle but interesting conversations about their normal lives. During the main course she would laugh at all his jokes, not because they were funny, but because how adorable he looked while being a total goof. When desert rolled around he would carefully address the stray hair back behind her ear, their eyes would lock for a moment, she would smile, he would too.  
After dinner he would escort her back to her house, looking to get nothing but another friendly hug, but when they made it to her front porch she would make the first move. Placing her gentle pink lips to his. Her arms would wrap around his neck, he would pull her in closer, becoming breathless as he succumbed to her overwhelming scent. She would giggle into the kiss as his scruff played lightly at her skin. They would pull away, and look truly at each other. Study one another; fall in love with one another the way it should have been…the way they deserved.

Chris took one last look before closing his eyes as the lever hit bottom; awaiting a darkness that never came._  
_  
Jill's body became limp, her knees giving out from the stress finally breaking down her walls of sanity as she collapsed to the hard ground. It was too much. This damn place, almost loosing Chris, it was all so out of hand; out of her hands. Not knowing she could keep him safe killed her, she couldn't lose him. Her mind was swelling with grief, what if's taking over. Draining the life out of her body.  
A panic attack did it's best to overcome the well put together Valentine, and it would've if her body wasn't placed in his embrace. His hands cupping her face as he pressed his head to hers; picking up the shattered pieces, making her whole.

* * *

**October 24, 2005 2:02 AM****__**

_Jill's eyes opened, skimming the unfamiliar area which surrounded her. Her wetsuit clang to her body as she sat up, dropping her legs over the side of the bed to stand. An electrical buzzing surfaced from above, as the light blinked on and off. Jill looked up as everything went black._

Placing her hand in front of her face, she squinted her eyes to see. The lights turned on, a corpse appearing in front of her. She sheepishly tilted her head to the side unaware of what to do.  
It opened its mouth, "Mayday! Mayday!" it shrieked loudly. Panicked, Jill jumped up from the bed. Her feet pushing her toward the door as she felt for her Samurai Edge handgun, feeling nothing. She was screwed. She began banging on the locked door, screaming for help, as strong hands wrapped around her waist. She turned, her teary eyes looking up at a much younger version of her partner.

"Chris," her barely audible voice croaked, as she pulled him in, her head resting on his hard, unmoving chest, "I was so scared."  
Chris's expression was cold, eerie. Knowing something wasn't right she pried herself out of his grip. Not fighting back he just stood there, she turned her back to him, "We need to find a way out of here."  
Droplets sounded onto the floor, a wet gushing sound emerging from behind her, growling, Jill turned.

She covered her mouth at the sight. He stumbled towards her, his flesh peeling off, blood petruding from his mouth, "Why didn't you save me, Jill?" the voice turned from Chris's vocal tone to a child's as the corpse turned into two; Priscilla and her older sister Becky McGee stood in front of her holding hands. Their tiny bodies mangled in a grotesque way, once shredded body parts sewn back together, resembling voodoo dolls; their blank dead eyes looking up to her, "Save us?"  
All she could do was gawk guiltily at their innocent dead faces, backing herself up into a corner as they made their way closer…and closer…until finally...

Jill shot up, gasping for breath, her chest heaving up and down in fear, as trickles of sweat rolled down her face. The guilt was burning her within. Blinding her, and though she knew it was just a dream, a horrid fucking dream at that, she couldn't get their little corpses out of her head...her mind drifted to Chris.

Helplessly throwing her cover to the side she jumped to her feet. Not giving her mind enough time to process the nightmare into reality Jill ran into her living room; feeling something was wrong…feeling he was gone. Worked up she slipped on her shoes and sweater, barely giving thought into grabbing her car keys. She just had to make sure he was breathing…

The heavy rain soaked her before she could get into her car, she didn't care. She placed the key in the ignition, powering it up, she pulled out of her parking spot and sped down the road. She felt like a mad woman, it was insane of her to show up at his house this late at night waking him up because of some stupid ass nightmare. A tear rolled down her cheek as she turned into his driveway. Turning off the car she ran for his front door.

Chris who had tossed and turned all night had finally given up on sleep. He was laying there, staring thoughtlessly at the reflected raindrops on his ceiling when he heard pain-stricken knocks. Grabbing his handgun from under his pillow a shirtless Chris Redfield made his way to his front door. Opening it, he placed the hand with the gun behind the door, hiding it so whomever was knocking wouldn't see. His muzzy eyes finally focusing on the womanly figure, "Jill?" he muttered as he pulled her in without question.

She was half-asleep and shivering, her lips turning purple as her teeth chattered against one another. He escorted her to his living room, sitting her down on his leather couch; not caring that her being wet could ruin it. He hastened to his room, grabbing a t shirt, and sleeping pants knowing they would swallow her whole, but also knowing it was better than nothing. Throwing them over his shoulder he stopped in the hallway closet to grab a towel and blanket, then continued back to her.

He sat down by Jill who was now curled up into a little ball trying to filter the nightmare from reality. Chris gently placed his hand on her bare leg, she twitched beneath his heated touch but didn't fight the gesture. His forehead was wrinkled with worry; it had to be something bad if she ran out wearing her night clothes.

He knew that Jill hadn't been sleeping much at all lately, neither had he, the job was finally catching up with them. Seeing all those faces, the dead, the horrifying new B.O.W.S. being put into action; it was all enough to send one to a looney bin. Chris wanted nothing more than to take the pain from Jill. Wishing he could put her burdens on himself. She was imprisoned in a world she didn't deserve.

"Do you want to talk about it?"  
She looked up at him, her eyes accessorized with dark bruise like circles; she shook her head.  
He nodded and stood up, his hand lowered to her reach, "Let's get you dry."  
Her frozen hand locked in his, the feeling shocking the nerves of his fingertips. He led her to his bathroom, flicking the light on he handed her the dry clothes off his shoulder. Turning to walk out she finally spoke, "Stay."  
He turned shocked by her one word not grasping what she meant, she could read his expression, "I don't want to be alone, please…stay." She added.  
Nodding his head he turned back around giving Jill privacy to change. It took everything in him not to take a peak, but knowing it was his Jill; he would rather die than disrespect her.

Brushing passed him fully clothed, she turned off the light and grabbed his hand pulling him in the direction of his bedroom. He could tell she was exhausted, the way she took every step so carefully afraid of losing balance proved that fact. He chuckled quietly, and with one swoop he pulled her up into his arms, carrying her like his bride…if only.  
"Chris!" she laughed tired, nuzzling into his bare chest, which Chris mindlessly forgot to cover, "You've been holding back on me.  
What was she referring to exactly? He looked down at her, a smirk plastered on his face, but his eyes were left wondering. She continued, her wrapping arms weakly around his neck; so she could be more so face to face with him.  
"Who would have thought you were the strong one out of this team? And here I've been stressing over who would take care if you once I was gone."

His chest tightened, his heart stuttering as her playful joke turned into their twisted reality. Why would she say such a thing? He couldn't find the words to comment back, it was as if his mind came to a complete halt, shocked. Chris knew she hadn't meant anything by it. Jill had a way of innocently stating what was on her mind when driven to the point of being severely fatigued.

He looked down at her, placing her gently on his bed. After tucking her in he sat down gently beside her, pondering on the last words she had spoken before sleep had taken over. He would never allow any harm to come to her, he would give his life selflessly to know she was alive. Caressing her face; her eyes stayed peacefully closed. He smiled down at her beauty; it was refreshing to see her like this.

Minutes passed and Chris thought it best he should move to the couch for the night. Attempting to move, Jill refused to let him. Her now warming hand clutching his tightly, her eyes sad, her brunette hair wildly cupping her gorgeous face, "Stay."

Who knew one word could mean so much. How could he refuse her?  
He nodded and she scooted over making room for him. Once he was comfortable, she placed her head on his heart, her hand on his naked chest. Realizing her skin was burning against his he shuddered with chills, as electricity pulsed through his bones. Wanting her closer he wrapped his muscled arms around her waist. Pulling up the loose t shirt he gently caressed the skin that laid upon her hip bone.

The rain sprinkled lightly on his window as her breathing waded him into the calm. This was heaven…she was heaven. He placed a kiss on her head, and joined Jill in her deep slumber; sharing the first good night's rest since being back.

* * *

__

**PRESENT DAY  
August 29, 2006 2:27 AM****  
**_  
_  
Chris's heart stuttered to a stop as Jill pulled him in, tugging lightly at his hair. Closing her eyes, she inhaled his thick cologne scent, allowing it to overwhelm her senses. She began to bite on her bottom lip, Chris stared in wonder as his mind slowed to a subjective crawl, wanting to feel them against his; wanting to taste their sweetness. Her fingers weaved their way into his hair, pulling him into her, desperately giving him her approval. Her plump pink lips curved, wanting to be devoured by his. Feeling his hitching aroused breath so close made her moan slightly; a craving that needed to be satisfied.

_SMACK!_ An alarming rattling sound of chains hitting metal resonated through the small room. Adrenaline shot through them, pulling away from one another they took stance, ready to take down anything that came between the two. Not having time to think or be shocked about what had just about happened they took aim, a strong stench, like sun heated road kill reaching their noses. Hard weighted thumps pounded against the stone floor, turning itself into view, Chris and Jill stared up at the newest edition of Umbrella's abominations.


	6. Chapter Six: Memoirs of a Ghost

**_Here is Chapter Six! :D I realize I said I would have it posted earlier this week but life is life and I can only do so much! I apologize ahead of time for there is little Valenfield in this chapter only plot/past development, but if you are all into the horrors of Lisa Trevor, and Rebirthing of Wesker then this chapter might be your cup of tea! (I did tweak at the events a tad bit.) ;) I will post Chapter 7 as soon as it's done! Thank again for all the reviews/favs/follows & for being patient!_**

* * *

**__**

July 31, 1978  
6:15 AM

_  
Two young researchers sat side by side as the blades of the helicopter neared the ground, an abhorrent scent kicking up from the wilderness. The youngest, William Birkin, was too caught up in his research files to even give any notice to his surroundings or senses for that matter; the oldest, Albert Wesker, took note of the mansion which laid below. It was unremarkable, a brilliant hiding place for such a facility…but when they reached ground level even he couldn't shake the feeling something was off._

Wesker wasn't a fool. He knew all about Umbrella researching the RNA virus, the progenitor, and if his accusations were correct, then they were working with life and death itself. Of course, the recently passed Biological Weapon convention made all the research on the virus illegal; with that being said, there was no guarantee someone wasn't dabbling with it anyway; and it was perfectly legal to do research in preparation of such an eventuality. In point of fact there is no difference at all between researching a weapon, or its cure; therefore making it entirely possible for one to research the captivating virus while pretending one was working on its cure. That was Spencer's loophole.

The helicopter landed, both newly appointed chief researches stepped off coming face to face with the Arklay Research Facility; secretly The American center of Spencer's T-Virus research. Wesker's blue eyes skimmed the outside of the mansion. Marvelous was the only word Wesker could find to describe its luxurious beauty before being escorted off to a secret elevator hidden underneath a fountain within an overly flamboyant garden.

A lab coated man stood in the center, a greedy smile placed upon his stern face as he looked upon the eighteen, and sixteen year old. William and Albert boarded the elevator; both too arrogant to give the director a second glance. The older man began to speak, going over procedure, what to expect when they reached the facility, the basics; which both teens deliberately ignored.

Albert who had memorized the layout of the underground facility a day before, was remapping the infinite labyrinth of an area they were about to enter. The man continued to ramble on, still only falling on deaf ears. Birkin was all too occupied with his own thoughts while staring down at the files in hand; which detailed a new strain of filovirus known as Ebola. The disease had surfaced two years previous in Africa, and anyone who considered themselves a scientist had their grubby paws on it. Both teens were more than focused on their ambitions, the greatness they could achieve in such a place, together they would be undefeatable; they would be legends.

After several changes of elevators the three men made it to the lowest floor of the facility. Once there, even Birkin felt compelled to look up from his notes to look upon 'her'. A window sat in front of them, Wesker tilted his head to the side to face the creature strapped down to the medical bed. She was unlike anything he had ever seen before; and though the date he looked over stated several experiments nothing was mentioned of this one's existence.

Several faces were stitched where one should have been held, bulging from her scalp in whelps; Wesker easily counted three from the side which faced them. Everything from her chest down was normal, though after observing he noticed her arms had deep gashing sores which spread down to her legs. Her uncomforted cries of pain piercing their ears as a gauged needle was shoved into her chest; pumping in whatever virus they would contaminate her with next. A yellow infected eye focused over on the young man; she being one of the few making eye contact with his ocean blue eyes.

For the first time Wesker felt guilty, a sadness developing from within for the poor woman. What had they done to her? What had she done to deserve such intolerable suffering? What was happening to him? Why the hell did he care so much? He tightened his jaw, his human eyes tensing; repulsed by the sight, he looked away. His mind shut down all emotions as he gave into the bold voice screaming into his conscious; his tyrant side taking hold fully. He wanted nothing more than to be that man. He wanted to be the one testing the creature, pushing her to her limits just to see how much she could endure. He was now envious, yes….envy for the researcher that was better than feeling pity for 'her'. She was just another useless being after all, nothing to him.

Birkin sighed in awe, mumbling something under his breath so lightly that Wesker couldn't even make out the fallen syllables. Wesker nodded in agreement, not knowing if they were words of damnation or praise but in that moment they both knew they had come to the point of no return. They could guide the research to success, or rot away in obscurity like 'her'. It was as though Spencer had planned for them to see her, planned for them to be brought down at the exact moment they were doing her procedure…almost like a threat…what would happen to them if they didn't agree to his terms.

It was obvious the path both would choose. The sight of the in-capitated woman lying on a metal-frame bed had stirred their undying instincts of survival; a sensation neither knew they possessed until that day. _**Better to be the predator than the prey.**___

Only one question to this day still resides in Wesker's mind…  
_**How long have I been Spencer's puppet?**_

* * *

**PRESENT DAY**  
**August 29, 2006**  
**2:31 AM**

A horrid aroma raped their nostrils as the massive enemy stepped forward. Its ferocious looks demeaning, its stench revolting in such a nauseating manner that Chris and Jill's throats burned as they inhaled their last breath.

In front of them stood seven feet of rotting decay. Its body covered with a thick grease like fluid, which dripped off, puddling onto the floor, with every nearing step it took toward them. It's once human face hooded, but even in the dim lights Jill could see the boils which covered its suffering face; the blisters swelling in size as it wrapped around its neck, protruding down to its lower back. A leather harness cut into its monstrous skin, so too keep the muscle growth in place; a yellow eye…buried deep into its overlapping flesh.

_The G Virus…Lisa Trevor  
_"Those bastards." Jill mumbled, her gun at aim, "Shoot for the eye." Her voice determined, shocking Chris; who was still lost in thought over their little show of affection, turned her way, prying his eye off the undead nightmare.  
Before he could question her, she was shooting. Repels of blood splashed the walls, a yearning cry for help welling out of the abominations mouth  
"Damnit, Jill." He growled in frustration. Why the hell couldn't she ever fill him in on her actions?

Raged it raised its anchor weapon. Jill dunked, dodging the hit, the superior strength of which the giant held was otherworldly, the anchor smashed into the wall behind her, the sound of dry wall crumbling matched the tempo of the creatures shrills. Giving Chris the hand motion to move both made it past the creature and into the storage room. Boxes were piled high, portraits thrown lazily to the floor; while taking aim Chris could only bring his mind to wonder why Spencer hadn't placed them somewhere within the Estate? There was more than enough room. It was funny how even when your mind needed to be in one place it was elsewhere.

Pulling the M3 off her back Jill sent bullets flying into its back, Chris seeing no reason to pull out his S75 stuck to his handgun. The rapid pounding beat that emerged into the air vibrated off the walls, the explosive fires sounding like never-ending fireworks. Finally damaging it enough, the poor creature too weak to stand, fell to its knees, exhausted from its new injuries. Jill wasting no time jumped up on its back. It trying to nudge her off as she pulled her knife out of the arm of her alpha jacket; stabbing it deep into the amber ghostly eye. Stretching upright in fury, it flailed her onto the floor, her backside taking the hit.

"JILL!" Chris screamed in panic, thinking fast, "TAKE COVER!"  
Reaching behind him Chris pulled a grenade off his tactical vest, pulling the pin back he tossed it, Jill was now crouched, putting all her strength into holding the metal door, which had been busted off its hinges, to cover herself from the explosive.

A deep violent gust of wind flowed fizzed across their bodies, lighting the space between them as the grenade detonated. A distinct bubbling sound of blood splattering to the ground below its collapsing figure, a curling cry of an agonizing death drowned out the rumbling of construction breaking down; reminding Jill of one horror after another.

* * *

**_July 23, 1998  
4:03 AM_**

_Jill stood straight, her posture perfect, her guard up staring wide eyed at the traitor whose back was turned to her. She couldn't believe out of all the secrets they had unraveled about the Mansion this one puzzled her the most…her own teammate, friend…working with the enemy? She was infuriated, was her mind jumping to conclusion? Had her ears heard correctly? She wanted nothing more than someone to shake her awake, but instead she swallowed all the self-pity from the night's events, all the anger, and stepped forward; her walls high, like she was taught to hold them so._  
**_  
_****_Never let your guard down, Jilly. Because when you do you will know true pain. _**_Her father's voice sprang into her head, she replied,__** If only I had listened, Dick…If only I had listened**_

_Barry turned at the sound of slapping footsteps hitting the wet stone, his right hand placed suspiciously behind his back. Jill caught onto the gesture and knew without a doubt her mind was not playing tricks on her, he was going to kill her if she got into his way. __****_

_Her mind competed with itself, what should she do? Kill him, right there where he stood before he could make a move? Kill a man who had two adorable little girls and a lovely wife, whom she met on several occasions? To save hers? Why did that feel so selfish? Why was she thinking of him as the good ol' Barry Burton when he had a gun pressed to his back ready to put an end to her existence? He was the enemy, he made his decision… __**God forgive me…**_

_"Jill!" a startled voice wakened her senses, and she knew she was prepared for anything.  
"You're alive?" He said more as a question than a response, his voice shaken in a way that proved he was more taken back than she was._

Jill took a few steps closer, as the man fidgeted his body in an anxious manner  
"I was worried…because I thought… you were'uh…" He pulled the gun hastily out from behind his back, preparing to shoot. The only problem was, she was faster. Grabbing his wrist Jill squeezed with bone breaking pressure, twisting his wrist manically, his .44 magnum now weighing down her trigger hand. Retorting back into place like a dance the rolls had reversed, she now was in control of the situation and was showing no sign of hesitation to shoot.

Barry had no time to think, his hands raising like a white flag, surrendering. Jill was biting her tongue, her nose flaring as she tried to control her breaths. Tonight wasn't the night she would choose to be fucked with, she was growing tired of the games, and they would end; no matter the cost.

"Start talking." Her voice was toned with loathing spite, her teeth grinding against one another. She stepped closer to him, so close she could feel his overwhelmed helpless breaths, the gun inches from his forehead. She clicked the hammer of the gun down, awaiting his answer.  
_  
"CALM DOWN! BELIEVE ME I DIDN'T WANT TO DO IT I CAN EXPLAIN!" His words jumbled as they shot submissively out of his mouth as the sudden realization of death upon him swept over like a massive tidal wave. Could she believe him? He had lied to her keeping up the whole act all night. After all that was happening she was trusting her instincts, "DON'T LIE TO ME!" She screamed back, her tone a scolding hiss._

_The sound of a rake scraping concrete resonated through the cold depths of the tunnels. Barry turned his wide eyes only growing wider with fear, Jill who refused to drop the magnum slightly looked in the direction the noise came from. The thing was moving closer to them, soft footsteps thudding abreast chains scuttling. It was the same virus carrier Jill had come across earlier, who spared her life for some unknown reason…Shivers shot down her neck, creeping down her bruised spine as the creature shifted its shackled arms side to side, smashing the statues which resided beside the entrance._

The sound…oh that sound, unlike any other. You could hear its desperation, all the pain which it held within, it's harrowing cry like the grim of death itself. Shrilling one last time the creature sprouted tentacles from its head, splitting between the sewn on faces.

Both humans looked at one another, "No time to talk." Barry spoke not caring what would happen knowing if Jill didn't pull the trigger than that thing surely would, "Jill! Hand me my gun!"  
Jill contemplated on what to do. She was holding a living man's life in her hands; could she honestly stoup to that level? She was better than that…she had more respect for herself, more honor for her team even if she was the last man standing. Handing the gun back to Barry meant he could turn on her, shoot her without a second thought, then turn to take care of the creature… Her mind made it decision, she would rather go out with glory than become a monster. Hoping she wouldn't regret it, she placed her right hand in his, handing him the god-forsaken gun.

Waiting his betrayal, he spoke, "Thanks Jill." Barry turned toward the creature, and Jill couldn't help but feel hope well within her.  
Barry wasted no time, taking aim, he began shooting rounds into the damned creature, who was now motionless only staring at the two humans who stood in front of her; her toes dangling off the edge.

Staring at Jill a fight welled into Lisa's soul; rioting back at the virus. Her face, her brown hair, her grey eyes...a colored, living, breathing, portrait of her mother; an almost uncanny resemblance, caused the chaos to be triumphed. _**"WE CANT HURT MOMMY!" **__the tiny confused child raged within Lisa's afflicted mind, __**"NOT AGAIN! WE NEED TO STOP! YOU HAVE TO STOP DOING THIS TO US!"**_

_"Mo…ther…" it croaked, Jill stepped forward placing her hand on Barry's gun as to tell him to drop fire.  
He looked at her in awe, what the hell was she thinking? She shook her head, somehow sensing what the creature had in mind. Looking back Jill saw what she hoped to believe the last moments of Lisa Trevor's never ending suffering._

* * *

__

_**July 23, 1998  
5:25 AM**___

Blood clutched to his bare chest where the wound once was; the moistness of the crimson not irritating him in the slightest, in fact he wouldn't have noticed if it hadn't been rubbing off onto his paled skin. He was seeing with new eyes, feeling with new skin, breathing with new lungs; his senses enhanced to the peak of immortality. He felt a fair balance of control over the virus; it taking what it needed from him, and it making him a God in return.

Oh, how he wanted to test his power, to put his superhuman strength to the test. He could feel it boiling beneath his hot skin, the parasite sizzling through his veins. It was heavenly, like the purest of highs; only he wouldn't come down. His brain was clear, no repugnant human emotion blurring his wants, his dreams, his desire to consume humanity; to make the world bow beneath his waking step.

He paced himself, knowing that his hour glass was running low. It was now only minutes before the whole entire mansion would be engulfed in flames; taking every lost soul with it. Wesker made it back to the main hall, sensing another beings presence he took it upon himself to shift his newly equipped eyes in the creatures direction. Forcing a smirk on his dried blood covered lips, he stepped forward his gun aimed at the shackled woman.

"You're quite stubborn Ms. Lisa Trevor." He spoke his first words since taking the Prototype Virus, his voice sounding pure, lucid. Pointing his gun her way he stared at the woman thinking of the first time he saw her, thinking of how young, how immature he was to feel pity for such a weak human. But she was immortal, correct? Like he? It would be a fair match, but he didn't have time to waste.

Her shackles rhythmic with her painful groans, her memory foggy but she could remember that face any day…only something had changed?  
"_**His eyes aren't that lively blue anymore. What have they done to him?**__" The little girl inside Lisa's head commented and questioned, __**"Mother…do you think she's still here? If he's here then maybe she's here too. When seen her only moment's ago…lets go…lets go find her…lets go find mother…mother…mother…"**__ Her mind froze like a broken record, the one word spinning spontaneously through her head. It was like this every day for her, a constant battle between the child and virus inside her…__**God why won't the pain stop?**_ _She wanted to cry, she wanted to get down on her knees and beg the unholy man to take him with her but before she could even make an attempt her mind did a full loop; resetting itself like an automatic clock._

Wesker stood back, calculating the space between him and her. It was time to test himself. Like a lost puppy Lisa made her way to the center of the hall to face Wesker. Finally reaching her destination Wesker pushed himself off the ground, an exhilarating force freeing him of gravity itself. He was unbelievably fast, and if he had any sort of emotion left in his body it would be unadulterated pride. Lisa felt a breeze flow over her aching body, staring blankly at the stairs, she wailed out for him. He let out a sinister chuckle, he loved hearing her abused devastation; like music to his ears.

"Your desire for eternal slumber will be granted." His voice mocking with caustic as he precisely shot the chandelier down without trying. Rumbling, the ground shook slightly as the masterpiece scattered to the floor around a twitching Lisa Trevor, blood soaked into the red carpet below, staining it a shade darker. He turned, smiling to himself faking assertiveness. He glanced over his shoulder at the now still creature, "Be a good girl and stay dead this time."

_**"Goodnight mommy."**__ The little girl whispered gently as Lisa closed her eyes._

* * *

__

**PRESENT DAY**  
**August 29, 2006**  
**2:51 AM**

After getting through the not-so complicated crank puzzle. Jill and Chris had roamed their way down an abandoned hall; the atmosphere reminding Chris of the tunnels under the Arklay mansion. Reaching another locked door Jill dropped down to her knees, pulling out her lock picking tools. Chris rubbed the nape of his neck with incertitude, wondering if he should speak what was on his mind. He felt they had barely spoken all night; when they did they were at either at each other's throats in frustration, or wanting to maul one another sexually. The tension between them was interoperable and he was clueless as to why.

He cleared his throat, a habit he couldn't quite shake; Jill saw it more-so a nervous tick. She looked up at him, knowing he was about to mention the moment they had shared before the exasperating interruption. Was Jill ready to answer his questions though? Here? In a place like this? What choice did she have though, if Chris asked she couldn't deny him her feelings any longer and she wouldn't. His dark drained eyes looked down at her, his face lined with distress. **Oh, Chris…**

She wanted nothing more than to continue what they started, to place her lips on his and help fight the ongoing war within his raging bones. With one touch, she could take his suffering away, ease his mind of all burdens. Seeing him so distraught killed her, but she knew it best; if she gave into her urges the situation at hand would only get stickier. She stubbornly shook off the thoughts, going to work, fully aware that when he was ready he would talk.

Finally finding his words, Chris placed his back against the stone wall, his arms crossing over his chest, "After we get out of here…" he swallowed nervously, a feeling he hadn't felt in ages, his eyebrows tensed as he looked down upon her, "Can we talk about _us_?" the foreign word fell off his tongue as the lock on the door clicked open.

She stood up, her stomach swaying in a warmth of lust. She met his eyes, **_us… _**the word, it branded a mark in her head, it had always been them; it would always be him. She gave him a very calm nod trying to keep composure and not reveal her giddiness a light smile present on her lips, "Of course." 


	7. Chapter Seven: Pt1-Dance With the Devil

**Oh how I never thought I would get this chapter out of my mind and on onto screen. XD Before a chapter I always have these ideas that I write down on an outline, yadada, and for this chapter there were just so many excellent ways this part could've gone and at the end of each part I found myself wanting to tweak it just a bit more. But! Finally here it is! Thanks again for all the reviews/favs/follows :D Until next time!****_  
_**_  
__**July 18th, 2006  
1:00 AM**_

After getting in contact with Ada, Wesker gave her the coordinates of a safe destination to meet out of prying eyes. He needed to know more, the documents leaving his brain in a gunk welled mess. He was losing it, day by day he could feel the prototype virus draining more and more out of his body. Soon he'd be nothing more than a shriveled leftover of the greatness he had become.

Over the phone Ada made it clear cut that Wesker would have no other obligation but to trust her. Wesker of course questioned that "obligation"; after all considering her miraculously unfaithful track record was that the best choice? Not that he had one, seeing as how his leads this far had practically landed him in a dead end. The clicking of high heels hitting the cracked pavement sounded loud enough for him to hear her fine-drawn steps over the quite engine; knocking him out of his train of thought. He unlocked the door allowing Ada Wong to glide into the passenger seat.

"Wesker, how good to see you." She purred, her silhouette lit by the moonlight, "I see you found the data files rather interesting?"

His left hand was placed at his side, rubbing against his thigh anxiously as though he was suffering from drug detox. He was becoming enfeeble, and knew that tad bit of information would bring rupturing dollar signs into Ms. Wong's eyes.

Why couldn't he fully grasp onto hiding his emotions? True, it had been eight years since he was mortal after all. And though he wish it weren't he had long forgotten all his cloaking skills; his shades only adding so much hostile composed edge to his features.

His jaw tightened as the arresting woman waited for a response. Usually he was right on it; tonight though the silence between them was perpetually eerie. She found it so very unlike him not to shoot a sarcastic comment down her throat.

"Perhaps you wouldn't mind giving me the rundown on how you were given such information, Ms. Wong." It wasn't spoken as a question, but a demand.

Ada knowing this allowed her red lips to roll up into a witty grin, "Wouldn't you like to know."

_**Frustration. Anger. Aggravation.**_

A vein on the side of his head began to throb, pulsing as the unknown feelings flashed behind his eyes. His irises flourishing an ablaze red. Which emotion was he feeling? Why couldn't he remember? It was like a detonation had ruptured his insides shooting hot shivers of fury throughout his core. He wanted nothing more than to grab her by her glossy black hair and slam her into the window, not stopping until he had stolen her life. His fingertips pressed deeply into their covered palms; a gesture that would make any human bleed if furious enough. Taking deep breaths, he took control; barely. Pulling his act together as he reminded himself all that was at stake.

"The information Ms. Wong; I take it you have more to tell me?" His voice stern as he choked down the will to kill her, trying his best to keep it professional.

"I do." She stated simply.

He turned his body vexed, the leather seat squeaking under his weight. He looked at the woman, who was sporting a shade much darker than her usual attire; black. "And?"

Ada now turned her body toward him, her movements always so seductive. Wesker who never gave notice to such things was alerted. Her dress had a slit down the side, revealing porcelain skin. Her legs were long, the way their pale beauty shined in the moonlight made his body ache with urges he had long buried away with his human self. He wanted to take his gloves off and run his fingers along the softness of her legs; he wanted to feel the chills as they blossomed onto her flesh. The fantasy making it hard to concentrate on his will to stay tensed. Trying to shut it down only made him colder, angrier at the fact that his life was spiraling downward. Could she notice that he wasn't the horrendous tyrant she knew all too well? Or was he just growing a case of paranoia like a repulsively weak human?

She was deciding on whether or not to toy with him or to just give him the facts. She never had any attraction to Wesker but it was fun bringing out that devilish side of him. It appealed to her, possibly because she knew he could end her life with the snap of a finger; which shot her adrenaline through the roof making her feel so alive. She was a junky, and wasn't ashamed.

Then again the night was rather old, and Ada, who had just gotten off a round flight from Beijing, wasn't in the mood to retreat or fight back if need be. Throwing all thoughts aside of messing with him she gave it to him straight, "I have been given the whereabouts of Spencer..."

"And who gave you knowledge of such facts?" He responded within seconds, not giving her time to finish; getting more than irritated at how she always found a way to bounce around every reoccurring question at hand. Why the hell did he care who had given her the information?

She crossed her right leg over her left thigh, her hands planted on her knees, sitting rather uncomfortably in Wesker's small rental, "Tsk, Wesker. You're usually so patient. What's with the sudden burst of eagerness? If you hadn't interrupted me you'd already know."

He shifted, a shocked expression crossing his features; realizing this it was gone in an instant, his face became semi-blank. She knew something. She had been given some sort of information on him. She already knew he wasn't his former self. She was double crossing him yet again. What could he do?  
He had a thought. An evil smirk played at his lips.

Lightning fast his hand flashed toward her, not having time to dodge or realize Wesker was going to pull her neck into a snake like choke, she panicked. A surge of fear spreading throughout her not-so calm body. Wesker was grinding his teeth, bearing down so hard Ada could hear the sound of his teeth clashing against one another. She closed her eyes her hands fighting with his gloved ones, trying to pry herself from his grip. She had never been so frightened in her existence; that was saying something... And though Wesker had always threatened he never made an attempt on her life until this very moment.

_**The document that dumb-ass Irving had given her was correct.**__ The prototype virus Birkin gave Wesker back in 98' was burning on its last bit of wick. __**Wesker's downfall? It was about damn time.**_

"How the hell did you know?" He said his voice a hiss; something a cold blooded reptile would spit out. He had lost all collectiveness, Ada had pulled the last bit of sane strings the breaking man had. He let her slightly out of his grip, just enough for her to croak out her answer.

"I will…tell you all…you need to know, just..." She gasped managing to get the full sentence out before he released his grip. He didn't want to hear her whine; as appealing as it sounded he was growing tired, the past few weeks dragging him down. He quickly locked the car doors, he would get his answers…even if that meant torturing her in this damn rental car.

She coughed, her body finding itself. Her lungs flooding with oxygen, gasping harshly as the breath burned down her throat. She touched her neck where his heartless palms once were, touching the stinging bruised skin; and she knew if she made one mistake he would kill her. No if, ands, or buts. Ada Wong would be dead.

"SPEAK!" He flared outraged, the deep bass in his voice made her jump with horror. She hadn't heard Wesker's voice go so strongly pitched in range before; hell she never thought it could.

She swallowed hard finding her nerve. Her mind fumbling over the words that she had to say, "I got word from a man named Ricardo Irving; Spencer's whereabouts was leaked into his place of work, Tricell."  
She continued. Her swelling dry throat sore; her voice hoarse, "And as for your issue at hand. I only know because Irving's boss, Excella Gionne, has been studying the prototype virus under Tricell for the past couple years."

It didn't add up. Only Birkin knew of the virus...correct? But those other specimens created by Spencer, given the name Project W would have taken the virus as well as he? If he was one of them? He knew he was, it was ignorant to deny such facts. No...Something certainly wasn't adding up. But what did this mean? Could it have been this 'Alex'? Perhaps another trap? Or game of Spencer's...? The man was rather desperate for company back in the day. Something was off...something wasn't right.

Ada was now looking out the window, staring into the deep gallows of the alleyway hoping that Wesker would show her mercy. She heard a clattering noise like plastic hitting something hard. She turned her head in the direction. Wesker's sunglasses were laying on the dashboard, his fingers pinching the space between his now golden, red rimmed eyes; the other hand gripping tightly at the wheel. Taking steady breaths he took it upon himself to comment, "If what you're saying is true then that means data was somehow saved from the Arklay explosion."

She wanted to shrug though her body was weakened, paralyzed by her fear; every instinct on halt as to stay alive. She instead watched Wesker argue with himself, not able to find any pity for the poor bastard. He'd done it to himself after all. If she wasn't so shocked from his actions she would've have laughed like a wild woman at his insane behavior.

Wesker was mumbling, his cat eyes tensed trying to remember every last detail referring to the mansion. He destroyed it all. He deleted all the data from the computers, he wiped their memories, and all the backup drivers clean. There wasn't even a god damn breach he could pin point. And it couldn't have been one of the god forsaken S.T.A.R.S. members because with such a document they would have had an excellent court case against Umbrella. He growled knowing the only thing he could do was fully place his credence in Ada, "Where is he?"

* * *

****

PRESENT DAY  
**August 29, 2006  
4:11 AM**

The full moon hid behind the clouds as thunder burst in rippling snivels of throes throughout the late night sky. Its sound echoed throughout the library; welcoming the events that were about to evolve into madness within its shelved walls.

Seventy-Five years and there set the creator of eight years' worth of atrocious wretchedness the world had become. His decayed bones crumpling into one another as he hunched over in his wheelchair. Constant beeps triumphed out from his side, a machine placed on the chair showing his vital signs, his heartbeat nice and steady; showing no sign of fear from his prodigy's planned visit. Spencer's hair was thinned, combed over, straggles covering the balding patches on his head where multiple IV's were placed; his life source. He clutched at the handles of his chair as he struggled breathlessly to explain his lifelong accomplishments; still only giving his child half the truth.

"A new superior breed of humans given birth by the Progenitor Virus. The Wesker children were entrusted with endless potential. Of them, only one survived. You." Spencer spoke, his present words showing un-doubtful disgust in the thing he created. He was disappointed by Albert. He saw such greatness within the young child he once was; only to see that small boy's ambitions torn to shreds by the selfish bastard pacing his creator's floor. He was more than ashamed, the thought of him creating such a disaster nauseated him.  
_He should kneel before me. I gave him such succession after all._  
Though he still had Alex, wherever he was.

Wesker stared out the window, impatiently waiting for the man's infinite rambling to subside. Whilst half-ass listening he only caught onto one thing; that very thing making his blood boil within his cold hard body. Wesker's hands clenched, his jaw tightened, his heart began to pound faster as the rims of his eyes spread into the amber, a crimson pond awakening. He turned his head toward Spencer's direction, letting the elders words soak into his thick skull.  
**_Jealousy? Anger? Denial? _**  
HE was the one who used people to his advantage. HE allowed people to play like little lab rats throughout his maze for his amusement; manipulating them all to his needs. HE was his superior. NOT some deranged fool. Albert Wesker was no one's puppet, and Spencer sure as hell wasn't behind the curtains pulling his strings.

"Are you saying I was manufactured?" he questioned as he bit down on his inner cheek, an iron base pouring over his tongue slightly.

Had he truly wanted the answer? It would prove all of the above true…true that he wasn't in control of anything along his crazed journey. True that from the very beginning he was a god damn puppet. But, hadn't he already been given such an answer? It was staring him dead in the eye, only Wesker's wouldn't make full contact with it. He knew one thing was certain, wrath was the emotion clouding his better half.

Spencer began to sit up, putting all his strength into the action as he responded, "I was to become a god…" coughs sprang from the man's hoarse throat; the sound like a satire cackle, which made his skeleton body rumble, "creating a new world with an advanced race of human beings. However, all was lost with Raccoon City. Despite that setback, your creation still holds great significance."

Wesker's question had been answered. Vexation pervaded Wesker's body, his virus sinking its claws into him, its blearing instincts taking over; striving on the will to kill. He would make Spencer pay for all he had done, karma was a bitch after all. Wesker made his way to the hunkered over man who was standing upon his ancient feet, not listening as the man continued his aimless chattering.

"Now my candle burns dimly. Ironic, isn't it? For one who has the right to be a god! To face his own mortality..." Spencer turned as he felt his least favorite child at his back. Face to face with the man he created, hating that he was so blinded by his greed to create such an abomination such as Albert.

Wesker felt a sense of numbness, as though the prototype virus had been kick-started throughout his body; shielding his soul from any feeling of guilt. He felt no sorrow for what he was about to do, only the will to survive, the will to prove he was so much more than the elder man who stood before him.  
_I'm worthy of being a God._

A smirk took handsomely to Wesker's foul look of irony. His voice humored as he spoke grimly, "The right to be a god..."

What happened next transpired into a freeze frame; so fast yet slow in the same manner. Spencer watched absent minded, unaware of what was happening until Wesker's fist was impaled into his chest; his blue eyes leaking all their life, as his senses maxed to their peak, his body skyrocketing with endorphins, though not enough to shy such unimaginable pain away. The last words he heard only a shadow in his wake, the breath on his neck like contractions of wind being blown miles away, "That right is now mine."

An overwhelming pressure breached within Spencer's chest as Wesker tightened his grip around the artery. Spencer struggled to survive. He wasn't supposed to go out like this, it wasn't his time.

Wesker felt refreshed, the living heart beating in his palm. How dare the imbecile speak to him in such a discourteous manner? Power searing through him from the tips of his fingertips, the virus whispering rather seductively to him. Wesker obeyed as he was told, pulling out, and as he did straggled gargles reverberated throughout the silenced room, thumping resonating in unison as Wesker watched his enemy take to the hard ground, rolling uncontrollably down a tiny set of stairs.

Wesker stared mesmerized upon the luxurious portrait. As plans already gravitated their way into his chaotic brain. Standing in a library full of information, which was placed within a mansion full of hidden data, the excitement Wesker felt was undeniable…the virus was still failing. _Who really wants the power? Me or the virus? _Shrugging that question aside he stared down at the corpse in wonder.

"The right to be a god? You? Arrogant even until the end. Only one truly capable of becoming a god deserves that right."

_But do I?_ Wesker ignored the voice within, of course it was him. He was a god, he was undefeated.

* * *

****

PRESENT DAY**  
August 29, 2006  
4:25 AM**

After exiting the underground inferno like labyrinth, Jill and Chris made their way up their hundredth flight of stairs for the night; only unlike the others this one was placed out in the open and little did they know, this was their last one. Jill was more than thankful to be out, smelling the ripeness of nature sweep over their chilling bodies reminded them there was life outside this purgatory; that their mission was almost complete and soon they would be home in their own beds. This night would only remain as another horror story in their journals.

Making their way up into another corridor, their eyes awakened, a ghastly scene of macabre painting their vision. Broken bodies laid scattered throughout the hall, blood smeared down the wall where they had been slammed violently, the smell of blood filled their nostrils.

"Poor bastards." Chris muttered, Jill only shook her head in agreement.

Making their way guns at aim they had finally made their way to the very hall Wesker himself had entered only minutes prior. The air between the two partners stiffly strained, neither had said more than a sentence to the other since making it this far. Jill found that to be a good thing, she hoped anyway, figuring that Chris too was now putting the mission before his needs. In reality though the thoughts of them tomorrow was still present in her thoughts, front and center. She couldn't wait to tell him everything; getting it all out in the open so they could stop living like prisoners in their own lives. To think that in just a short few hours she could admit all that she felt for Christopher Redfield was a relief.

Making their way farther in more corpses laid recklessly to the floor, a rose shaded liquid surrounded them, making the hallway rather morbidly colorful. Both innocently kicked at the bodies as they aimed at the head; just in case any movement of hunger submerged from the corpse…that's all they needed a replicated night of flesh eating monsters to get the full reunion into motion.

Lucky for them the sounds of Mother-Earth and their careful alerted footsteps were all that was delivered to their ears; no corpses crying in moans of hunger. Jill looked over at her partner whose eyes were locked on the double doors in front of them. She could only hope that this would all go to their liking, the man would be decrepit after all…correct? He would surely go down without a fight.  
_That is unless he injected himself with a fucking virus._ Jill shivered at the un-welcoming thought, she had had enough violence for one night, hell at this rate she had enough for an entire lifetime; yet then again it would explain all the dead bodies held within the mansion.

Chris who had finally shackled his feelings down for the time being was itching to open the door, to face and put an end to the very man who made their lives such a hellacious nightmare. Hell, when it was all said and done he figured it would only be right to hack into Jill's past and steal a few things to pay off all the debt the man had placed them in…all those doctor's visits, therapy sessions, fuck how those added up. Sure, they were paid off now, but that only placed Spencer in their debt. Looking around Chris knew the man wouldn't miss a damn thing. Still yet, Chris wasn't the type. He looked over at his partner in crime who was now faced forward, doing the same he smiled…it would all be over.

Seconds passed and their backs where placed to the door, Chris took the left, Jill took right. Looking at one another their hearts froze in time, as their breath hitched with anxiousness, ready to kill the fucking bastard whose hands were stained with all the souls lost along the way. Both nodded at each other and barged in without second glance. Their face pointed forwards as well as their guns. Wesker turned as the noise shouted throughout the hollow room, turning around to see non-other than his nemesis Chris Redfield, and by his side, Jill Valentine.

All plans of action were tossed aside, neither thinking as they shot at the dark figure who they had once highly respected as their Captain; a remnant of imagination now, a story of betrayal only remained.  
Before their eyes a fog like aurora surrounded Wesker shading him in darkness. Jill could have sworn the night's event had just went to her head, that is until she saw Wesker only a short distance away from where he once stood. His face now lit by the dimly glowing chandelier. Jill was stunned, in the worst sort of awe. Sure, she had heard about him becoming such a creature but had she truly believed the rumor? Not fully. Chris on the other hand had seen this version of Wesker, only it wasn't as advanced.

Un-doubtfully knowing they were screwed Chris and Jill continued plowing bullets into the rapidly moving man. Gaining on them, they began to shift apart, each thinking it best to shoot at Wesker from different directions. Shifting left Wesker took to Chris first, Chris only feeling a gust of air as Wesked grabbed his trigger arm, his gun went flying as Wesker's fist collided with his face. Chris's adrenaline was so high he hadn't given much notice to the take to his jaw, only thinking it would be sore as hell come tomorrow…if he survived that is. Not satisfied with Chris's reaction Wesker took it upon himself to land another blow only this time aiming it toward Chris's abdomen. Bullets bounced off Wesker's back, annoyed, he through the winded man to the floor.

Jill was firing bullets at Wesker's back, her eyes weren't playing tricks on her, the bullets were falling to the ground, shriveling as though Wesker was made of steel. Impossible  
_When in doubt shoot for the head._ as she was going for the killing shot, Wesker became a clouded mist of black. Jill briskly continued to fire as Wesker made his way to her; not knowing what to make of this, she had never been trained on what to do when you come into contact with something which carried such speed. Sure, she was an expert at killing B.O.W.S. but no B.O.W. was this fast.

It wasn't real, he wasn't real. This was all a goddamn dream, a contortion of an unrealistic fantasy. The man's inhuman speed grew upon her, weaving its way in and out of every direction the bullets were flying in; the motion making Jill want to rub at her eyes.

Wesker was now in her face; his intentions at first not so keen on hurting her but seeing as how the damn woman was getting in his way of revenge he figured it best to put her out of her misery. His left gloved hand met with her uncovered flesh, a growl rumbling out of his throat as Jill's back slammed into a wooden column; her headset falling to the floor as she struggled manically under his tight grip.

Wesker couldn't help but smile at her weak cries as she tilted her head side to side…though it would be such a pity to end the beautiful ladies life, he knew Chris and her were two peas in a pod, inseparable partners, always working hand in hand with one another; this would hurt Redfield so much more than death itself. Still a part of him was fighting at the virus, trying to take control, trying to force his hand from her feeble neck; this only giving him all the more reason to crush her bones into a million pieces.  
_He could pinpoint where these feelings were coming from. Why would he want to keep her alive?  
_  
Chris finally catching his breath heard the struggled whimpers of Jill, his body doing as his heart said, not giving any note to his own injuries, Chris jumped to her rescue. Taking a swing finally hitting flesh on flesh with the villain whose guard was strangely down. Jill collapsed to the ground, clutching her neck.

Wesker who was outraged at himself for not killing her when he had the chance kept full composure over himself, dodging every striking blow that Redfield tried to place upon his immortal body. Catching both hands, Wesker twisted Chris's body up like a pretzel, then took a swing at his face the action making blood fill Chris's mouth. Chris wrathfully ignored the taste, and side kicked at Wesker only to be held in the man's strong grasp yet again.

Jill who was at her feet again tagged herself back into the match as she watched the two men dance recklessly with death. Firing bullets from her handgun, Wesker threw Chris too the ground snarling in Jill's direction.

Wesker continued to dodge the bullets, and if he wasn't Jill's sworn enemy she would have found his technique rather entertaining, she could have sworn he was showing off his invincibility. Twisting his body mid-air Wesker's feet became one again with the ground, his posture stiff, as Jill ignorantly shot the rest of her ammo at him. Aggravated she threw the gun at him, he allowed it to slide past his face amusingly as she pulled out her knife.

One lucky stab to the head, one stab and this man would die…It would have to work, right? For god sakes no one was immortal, no one was impossible to beat; not even Wesker. Her brain wasn't thinking clearly, it was confused, muddy, last time she saw this man she had hoped to never look upon his face again…he fucking betrayed them…all of them…but for what? To become one of the sinful creatures who lurked in darkness? How crazy would one have to be too even stoup that low?

Chris appearing out of nowhere took another hopeless swing, Wesker once again pushed him to the ground ready to see what Ms. Valentine thought she could do with a knife. He wasn't going to lie to himself, he Albert Wesker was humored by her integrity. Before she fully made it to him, his palm was placed on her chest putting all his force into the shove he pushed her across the room. Her back hitting a glassed book shelf, shatters of glass collapsed alongside her body; some digging their way into her skin.

Jill cried out in pain as Chris continued his forceful blows. Wesker sneaking past every one of them, through a few punches at Chris before grabbing him by his throat. The game was over, it was time to end his life. Wesker slid Chris's body down a nicely lengthened table, knocking over various books as his body crashed into them. Chris felt a moment's relief as his throat was released only to be thrown harshly to the marble ground.

"Unnff." Was the only noise that emerged out of Chris's mouth, the pain brutal as his head cracked into the marble beneath.

Jill ignored the pain in her arm, she could worry about getting the glass out when they were safe. She needed to help Chris, she could hear his struggling groans. Placing the good hand on her knee she looked over to where Chris laid on the ground clutching his head in pain. She was trying to allow her lungs to fill with breath, the feeling as though she was drowning; smothering. Knowing enough about medical injuries, thanks to her background and never ending lack of getting hurt, she knew she had broken a rib or two. Her mind and will began to grow foggier as she struggled to get on her feet, the pounding steps of Wesker emerging his way to Chris was the only thing keeping her head above water.

Chris laid battered and defeated not sure if he was able to take another blow. His head throbbing, he was more than positive he had a concussion; that would explain why his stomach was doing somersaults anyway. Wesker stood over Chris, reached down he pulled the wounded man up off the ground by his tactical vest. Chris moaned in pain, as he came to the sudden draw of conclusion he was about to meet his end. He looked down at his death bringer, the man more than happy to bring his life to an abrupt end. Chris could feel anger though, only love. Love for Claire, his younger sister who he had practically raised as his own. The memory of teaching her how to ride a bike flashed in front of his eyes like shimmering star speckles falling gracefully as snowflakes, _"Promise me that you won't let go, Dummy!"_  
He promised, he always promised…like he promised before he left for this death trap.  
What of Jill? The regret of never telling her how he felt broke his heart...but what could he do? Wesker had overpowered them, he could now only hope that Wesker would show mercy on Jill after completing his vengeance…that lie was the only thing allowing him to handle his death.  
Jill felt her heart stop, a dagger placed into its depth as someone twisted it slowly; her minded putting two and two together, realizing what was about to happen. Chris, her partner, her soul mate, was about to be killed by that fucking tyrant of a man. No, she couldn't allow such a goddamn thing to happen. Chris had Claire to live for, as for Jill who did she have? Dick? The man who ripped apart her childhood and forced her into such a cruel life? A man who had always made her feel as if she owed him something? No…Chris had a family, a little sister who needed and loved him. Though it would be painful Chris could move on without her, he would learn to live with it, he would find peace because he would know that's what she would want. Her plan might have been absurd but she knew it would do the job. Looking to the window and to Wesker, Jill came to the conclusion it was more than the right thing to do, she owed Chris. And hell what better way to go out than saving the man you love, right? How ironic, to love someone just to die for them in the end. Cliché. Though no matter her mind was made up, "No!" She shouted unknowingly, her mouth sounding the words as she stood to her feet, the pain in her side enveloping into a searing pain.

Wesker looked up at his prey, like a cat. He wanted nothing more than to toy with Chris, torture him a tiny bit more…but truth be told he was growing rather ill looking up at his face. It was time.  
He drew the opposite hand back, the other still clutching at a rustling Redfield, "Lets finish this."

Chris closed his eyes, ready for the final blow only to be thrown to the ground. A mind melting scream awakening his senses; her scream. Jill's arm wrapped around Wesker's waist, throwing all her strength into the action she knew she was successful when she felt the shattering of glass scratch upon her body, rippling down like raindrops upon their skin. Chris stood up only seeing a blue haze fall out the window, he ran as fast as he could, his feet failing not making it in time. His body was now sticking out of the broken window, his hand held out as to grasp onto hers, to save her from the selfless sacrifice, his eyes now barely being able to make out the falling figures.

"Jill!" He screamed already knowing it was too late, his heart dropped into the pit of his stomach, his mind whirled timelessly as vomit filled into his mouth alongside the dried blood. _It couldn't be…she couldn't be…Jill's not dead…She…is alive. Jill was alive, she was. _His mind fed him lies trying to protect himself as he hurled bile onto the marble floor.

It was freezing, as though the wind had turned her into an icicle; Wesker's body not even giving her the warmth she needed. It was slow, draining, and though she knew she was falling to her death she couldn't help but find peace in its wake. Chris, he was alive. He was so very alive. She had won, they had won! And though her life was about to end, she couldn't help but feel it was all worth it.  
Who would have thought death would be so calming? Jill thought as she allowed her body to give into the shock, she allowed her numbed arms to let go of Wesker.

Wesker felt her release, and as she did so he unknowingly shifted his body under the comatose Valentine. _What was she thinking?_ More importantly, what the hell was he thinking? Why the hell would he allow his body to be the one to clash with the ground? He hadn't the slightest idea. His human self-taking full control as he held her body tightly to his, wrapping his arms around her so she wouldn't fall elsewhere.

With a crunching smack Wesker's body came in contact with the ground taking the blow, the impact sending ripples of agonizing pain throughout his being. He had never felt such excruciating pain; and for the first time he found himself fighting for breath. Feeling claustrophobic he threw the severely injured Valentine off the top of his chest; as with open arms he welcomed his regeneration…pretty soon the blood and rips in his clothing would be all that was left of this incident, he had survived


	8. Chapter Seven: Pt2-Possession

**Here is Part 2! Its super short due to it only being a follow up to Part 1 (obviously, haha)! :D  
**_  
They say when you shut your eyes for death a glorious bright light shines itself upon your body; its beauty almost blinding, but still yet you can't bring yourself to pry your human eyes away because it's unlike anything you've ever seen. It's pure, uncorrupted, innocent in a way that interests you; a mystery. It supposedly takes you away to this place, a place where all the nightmares of yesterday cease to exist, a place where your Guardian Angel wraps you tightly in their arms, holding you with all their strength as they lead you to the gates of a holy awakening.  
Where was my angel? Where was my light?_

Waves hit the shores as the fractured moonlight shined down upon the sea. Her senses were enhanced to their max. She could hear, taste, and feel just enough to know she wanted to die. The description so inhumane she couldn't find a way to express it.

Her body was paralyzed, her eyes only fluttering behind closed lids as she listened to a spirited familiar voice in the distance. _Chris?_ She could only hope; her heaven only swaying by his side. She tried to open her eyes, just to be turned down by a bursting throb ascend down her cheek, buckling like a tornado down to the peak of her toes. She wanted to scream, but when she opened her mouth nothing overflowed from her paling lips only the feeling that her spine had been thrust up into her throat.

_What's happening to me?_  
There was no way she had survived the fall, she felt herself slip into deaths oblivion only moments ago.  
_Is this hell?_ She knew it had to have been, it felt like her limbs were tied, being stretched; a contraption ripping her body apart piece by piece. The suffering unbearable.  
_What have I done to deserve this?_

Waves crashed against the rocks Jill's body curled under, the airy frigidness making her tense. Muscle spasms grew upon her, the motion growing powerful. On the inside she felt frigid, though on the outside she looked as though she was having a seizure; her body pulsating alongside the warping water. The sound of someone splashing in a puddle surfaced to her ears. Jill attempted to turn her head, her neck debilitated, refusing to the gesture she subconsciously commanded.  
_Chris?_ _Oh god, please be Chris._

"What am I going to do with you?" Her heart dropped knowing it wasn't the man she loved, only the one she hated more than life itself. If she could Jill's face would have darkened in an overwrought despairing manner. _Hell. This is my hell. An eternity with this bastard._

Wesker gazed upon the fragmented body of his ex-S.T.A.R.S. comrade, Jill Valentine. Her body was wrecked, practically lacerated into two parts. Pieces of various bones were sticking out of her left side, blood spliced with the sea water swirling around her; dampening into her damaged flesh. Kneeling down beside her he touched the swelled cheek, moving his finger down to her neck Wesker checked for a pulse, in return he felt a slight beat, strong but fading by the minuet, and if he waited too much longer it would be gone.  
_Remarkable._

If Jill hadn't been the one to force the ignorant act of suicide, Wesker wouldn't have recognized her. He found her strength enticing. It was rather extraordinary how her body was still fighting the will to survive in such a retired way. Jill flinched un-movingly weak under his touch.

Wesker found himself torn on what to do. One side, the monster, wanted to leave her to rot in the sun. It would surely be a few days before the BSAA would find her blistered cooked corpse and his nemesis, Chris, would be devastated to see his partner in such an unruly manner. On the other hand, Wesker's humanity was growing stronger with every breaking moment and it wanted the exact opposite. It was a battle; a war within Albert Wesker, the only question was, which would consume the roll of alpha?

He skimmed her body with naked eyes; his sunglasses smashed into pieces and thrown away as garbage. With the state her body was in the damage would be almost impossible to repair. Such wounds would take months, maybe even years at most to heal, especially the hip and rib bone which were gruesomely bulging out of her femininely small side. Wesker knew though that time was all he had on his hands, and such medical wages would place Ms. Valentine forever in debited to him. He smirked to himself; he could still very much use her to his advantage with her alive. She would be his project, an experiment, a hobby so to speak.

Jill's massed vivid face shifted as she tried breaking words with her enemy, "Wesker?" Her mouth motioned barely though Wesker caught on, feeling another emotion he couldn't quite pin-point.

"Yes, Ms. Valentine?" Jill found his voice was out of character, it was softer, as though he actually cared? She had to be dead, or at least dreaming. There was no way in hell Albert Wesker had an ounce of compassion in his bones.

Trying to speak, her tattered chest heaved, a sharp pain welling within its chasm and before she knew it she was floating in thin air; two impeccable strong arms carrying her, carefully, as though she was weightless. The feeling of his cloth fitted tee glazed across her sensitive skin, she hissed in response but Wesker continued his way hastily down the path he was making north. Before too much longer the BSAA would be searching the grounds for their long lost soldier, and if he remembered correctly Spencer had an old abandoned Umbrella Facility nearby. Wesker could only hope there would be enough medical supplies left to bring Ms. Valentine back to her former stability.

_Stop this instance!_ The animal shouted raged within at him.  
_Leave her for dead, let the bloody crows pick out her eyes._  
Shutting down that side of him he continued, a wall slamming up into place, separating the two souls, "Hang in there, Ms. Valentine. We will be there within the hour."

She was his newest obsession. If he had it his way her final breath would be his possession. This was the start of a new partnership; rather Jill found it gut-wrenching or not, it would be his way of getting back at her for making him fail at his vengeance...and oh, how this would make Chris hate him so much more. The thought made him smile, a true grin, as he stared down upon his new weapon. He would give her life, in return she would lend it to him; he would make sure she had no choice but to obey.

Who would have guessed, the tyrant, Albert Wesker, to be Jillian Valentine's guardian angel.


	9. Chapter Eight: Awake My Soul

**_This chapter was incredibly fun to write and maybe just maybe I will manage to squeeze another chapter out of my brain before this week is over. So, _****_with that being said I hope you all enjoy reading this chapter more than I enjoyed writing it! ;) Thank you for all the favs/reviews/follows! :D _**  


* * *

****

**August**** 29, 2006 6:27 AM  
Spencer Estate, Europe.**

"You have reached the phone of Jill Valentine! Leave a message. If this is an emergency call Redfield. 1-555-1313" Jill's ever-so sullen voice spoke as Chris hopelessly pulled his phone away from his ear, swiping the "end" option on the screen. Cupping the phone in his shaky palms he placed his head on them in a defeated manner. How could they have been so unprepared? How did it happen? All the undying questions swarmed in Chris's thick skull like a plague.  
_This is all my fault._

The crunching noise of grass emerged to his left drowning out the horrendous cry of sirens; their lights now dulled by the sun rising in the sky. He didn't shift, or break his thoughts, he just sat unknowingly on what to do next.

The ambulance Chris sat upon fluctuated as someone took a seat beside the rupturing man.  
"I'm taking you home, mate." An uncanny British accent landed Chris to the conclusion it was his, _their_, good friend, David Trapp, ex STARS Captain of the Maine branch, and now BSAA Captain of the SOU.

Chris didn't make a sound, or any movement. He just took steady breaths trying to ease the pain welling in his chest, trying to hold in the tears he viciously fought back.  
_Why Jill? Why not me?_

The pain was one of a kind. It was as though anytime now she would come falling into his arms, just so she could hold him high and take all his goddamn agony away. She would follow up with a funny ass joke then they would both laugh and grab a drink at the pub down the street...only this time...there was no Jill.

She was gone and though he watched it happen, he couldn't believe that it had. It was like being a child and losing a tooth. The nerves placed under the tooth are so sensitive, your mouth so full. Then when you finally loose that tooth all that's left is that empty space...that's how his heart felt; only his Valentine wouldn't grow back nor could she be replaced. She died. How could he face that reality?

Lifting his head he stared up at the sky, the empowering sun radiating its glow upon the surviving man.  
_"You'll see it tomorrow."_ His lying words like a flaming bullet to his soul. The realization that this night began with an ending, while they were fighting for the world. She sacrificed herself for him, her blood had spilled for him; Jill had died for him just so he could be the one to gaze upon the glory of a new day.  
There was nothing in his power he could…She was gone. 

* * *

**September 5, 2006 11:12 PM  
Umbrella Facility, Europe.**

Vacant memories flashed behind her tightly closed eyeballs. Her mind skimming for answers that weren't there. She remembered the sound of shattering glass, the burning stings which emerged from her body as the shards slid violently against her skin; the chilling cold air of the night surrounding her as she fell to her heroic death for him, her partner.  
_Am I dead? I have to be...Right?_

Jill couldn't grasp what was happening. It was like she was floating on a pond, her body weightless and numb, her eyes heavy with exhaustion as she attempted to open them; trying to take a good glimpse at her surroundings.

_Maybe the fall wasn't as bad as I remembered?_ _Maybe it was all my imagination.  
_Being an optimist after everything she had been through wasn't an option no matter how hard she tried. Logically thinking she knew deep down that the fall was as great as it looked, hell she could remember the fall vividly until she let go of her consciousness. There was no doubt in her mind that she should be dead, none at all. Something had gone wrong, and she knew that Albert Wesker, the very man she attempted to murder, was once again at the steering wheel of her fate.

Jill tried fighting the déjà vu feeling that was welling up in her brain as she denied the possibility of being infected. How long had she been out? Would this be like the two days and nights in the clock tower all over again? When she could feel the death swarming venomously throughout her veins. Like tiny parasites were eating their way up through her body to get to her mind. She could feel the pressure of her body tensing as she remembered the horrid night and downfall of Raccoon.

Jill knew that she was a ticking time bomb. She had already pushed and put herself through the most hellish of situations. Her luck was out, the countdown of her life seizing to exist with every beat of her heart monitor. This time there would be no Chris to help fight and defend, no Carlos to find a vaccine, and no Barry Burton to throw a gun her way and pat her encouragingly on the shoulder. For the first time ever Jill Valentine was on her own. Alone. Her stomach turned at the thought.  
_  
Oh god. _Her body was now sending waves of pain to her brain, her body becoming aware of its injuries as the numbness faded into a pit of embers and ash. _Please, god…just let me die!  
_Her mind shouted as the pain in her side welled with blinding torment every time she tried to take a breath.

Finding what little strength she had Jill fluttered her eyes open in panic. Bright white lights shined down upon her florescent grotesquely wounded body. She couldn't see them but she knew her body was covered in IV's, she could see the fluid bags hanging into view; brightly colored substances contained within.

A lock release sounded as an engineered door opened as frantic beeps began to spill out like a symphony. She knew there was no reason to try and attempt to move her health being too far gone for that, she had no choice but to wait and see who was approaching as footsteps paced their way in, pressing against a hard based floor. Jill's brain seized into disbelief as unnatural gold eyes met hers, the fluorescent lights making his pale features opaque, his slight blonde hair roughed up; strands laying sloppily here and there around his chiseled face.

Water poured from her eyes, the warm wetness caressing her swelled cheek, burning like an acidic base making the tears form worse than before.  
Was she crying over the fact she was in the hands of a mad man, or the fact she was actually suffering from her injuries? _Focus. _Jill tried to calm herself. _We've been through worse. We can do this. This is nothing, just a little detour. We are fine. _She was a horrible liar that was something her subconscious knew for sure.

She let her eyes close again, trying her damnedest to ignore the searing agony that was boiling out of her pores as Wesker examined her statics. Her mind wondered falling only on one person, her partner, Chris Redfield.  
_  
Oh you bastard. You better be alive or I swear to god I will dive into the pits of hell just to beat your ass senseless. _She knew deep down he was truly okay. Redfield was the strongest man she had ever known. She remembered her first day on duty as a STARS. The office was humid and clammy, Raccoon was always known for its scorching hot weather and rain, and seeing as how the air conditioner froze over the whole entire RPD building was being cooled by tiny box fans, two or three in every room.

She saw the memory so clearly it was like she was hallucinating a replica play through of it all. Jill Valentine who at the time was an ex criminal training to be a cop was spotted by, none other than Captain Wesker himself and brought into the facility because he had somehow gotten word of her unrivaled infiltration skills and expertise at lock picking; so he said anyway. Her father, Dick Valentine, a professional thief had taught her everything he knew, she was his shadow…that was until he got himself thrown into the slammer and Jill, who was in denial, allowed herself to open her eyes to see what a shit life she was given. After watching him get arrested and locked away Jill had decided it best to find a new position and who could refuse an offer as good as Wesker's? Certainly not the young and at the time gullible, Ms. Valentine. _I could slap myself._

Wesker took her vitals, everything seemed as normal as it could possibly be given her condition. Jotting them down on a sticky note; which he had found in a deceased scientist's drawer next to a half-eaten, rotted, Aero bar. Taking a seat he looked down on his subject whose face was finding that calm look of relaxation only this time her silvered eyes were pried on him.

"It does appear that the morphine wasn't expired after-all." He muttered, more to himself than to her seeing as how talking would be a rather hard task to Jill for the time being.

"Well, Jill. Glad you could finally join me." He said, his accent as thick as ever, his body movement showing no signs of injury from the fall, "You're probably wondering why you're still breathing? Am I correct?"

Jill tried to speak, but no sound emerged from her body. She was stuck, entombed in herself with only her thoughts to keep her sane. Wesker noticed her tiny movement and moved closer placing his gloved finger over her lips, "Shhh. Save your energy."  
Her cadet shaded eyes tensed up at him, and even he knew the facial expression caused her undeniable suffering, still yet, she kept it strictly planted on her face.

"You're going to be my little test specimen." Jill's eyes grew wide knowing what being a "test specimen" meant. Hell, Jill was practically on a first name basis with most of the viruses, and had come in contact with more than half of them. She could only hope she would OD on whatever he decided to inject her with before she could become a threat to humanity.

Wesker smirked rather amused by the look upon her bruised face, "Oh, not to worry. I haven't started yet. Those…" He pointed up at the multiple IV drips, "Are keeping you sustained until my partners arrive."

Partners? Albert Wesker has 'partners'? Jill wanted to roll her eyes. How naive could a person be to trust such an abomination to the world? Had they not heard of his unfaithful past? Obviously not.  
_Dumb-asses.  
_Still yet, so many questions were rounding in her head. Why had he kept her alive?  
_Well, we both know the answer to that one don't we? I obviously wounded his ego while tossing him out the window. This was revenge.  
_Who was his partners? Why hadn't he infected her? The questions a never ending circle of curiosity.

Wesker stood up, his impossible speed allowing him to be back in her presence before she even noticed, a syringe in hand. Tapping it slightly Jill's hazed eyes looked up at it, only to be surprised by his uncovered eyes staring fully into hers. Could he see her worry? Could he see that she was placing her life in his hands just this once? Was that smart of her? What if he lied? Why trust him now when he had done such traitorous things to her and her friends in the past?

Wesker somehow knew what she was thinking to a point, taking an all too steady hand he uncapped the syringe, a gauged needle shimmering in the light. Jill tried her best to flinch away but it was no use, she wasn't in control of her body, it was in control of her. It was severely injured and whether she like it or not she would have to place her life in his hands if she was to survive long enough to plan an escape out of his crazed reach.

"Relax, Ms. Valentine. My intentions are not to harm you."  
_But why? Why aren't you trying to hurt me you fucking bastard? Why didn't you leave me for dead? I would have been better off rotting then being under your care._  
Was that the truth? Even she couldn't deny her enraged mind that she had just lied. She never wanted to die, and she wouldn't have been better off. She just hated feeling as though she owed, Albert Wesker, the man who she respected for months before seeing his true colors, her life.

As soon as his watch appeared twenty minutes past eleven he shoved the syringe into her arm, dosing her with a sedative to help her rest. Jill hadn't noticed, her eyes only staring in concentration to the tiled ceiling lost in thought.  
_1…2…3…_  
Jill's eyes slumped into a fresh slumber. Wesker turned in his chair, disposing of the syringe, then turned around to gaze upon the sleeping beauty. What was it about her? What made him feel so protective of such a simple human being? Was he protective? Was that even the word for how he felt? Wesker had never felt so uncertain about anything at all. A memory found its way to his brain, surfacing before his eyes, as he realized what was truly happening.

His humanity had fully awakened. 

* * *

**January 3, 1998 3:22 PM  
Café O' Lei, Raccoon City**

_Jill tapped her foot anxiously. The aromatic rich smell of coffee swam into her nostrils as she waited for the captain of the STARS Alpha team to arrive. She had been sent a letter briefing her on how they were looking for someone who acquired her expertise in all things unlawful.  
__**Guess I can thank good old daddy for something useful at least.  
**__Jill, who had been denied multiple applications since graduating due to her criminal past, was more than happy to respond to the letter._

_This was her first time in Raccoon City; a place she would call home. She had passed through on multiple occasions, but had never truly stopped. The town Jill resided in was give or take about fifty-sixty miles from the cafe she sat in. She had never called Capetree home, not that she had called any place home truly (until living in Raccoon that is). She had moved so much throughout her life it never made sense to get used to a place or settle down, because when she found herself about to do so Dick would be on the run again. Their came a time in Jill's life when she just decided to give up, and it didn't take her long to come to such a conclusion._

_Bells chimed as the door to the cafe opened, a cool breeze of December air poured in and then was gone in an instant as the door shut behind the man. Jill who had her back to the door looked down at her watch. Three thirty._

_**Talk about precisely on time.**__  
She stood up to greet him formally, her hand was out for him to shake; he shook it respectfully, his rough hand releasing her soft as he found a seat in front of her._

_Getting a good glimpse at the man Jill couldn't help but feel a draw of attraction to him. He was tan, his face was sculpted rather nicely, and if Jill could compare him to anything it would have been a statue of some Greek god, ironically. Maybe it was just the way he carried himself? He seemed so sure, comfortable in his skin, maybe that's what made him so appealing? Finally catching his eyes, which were looking down at her application, which she had sent in after his letter, they struck her with wonderment. They were blue, but one of a kind, they were a stormy sky; light blue specs surrounded by a darker shade, and so beautifully distinctive._

_Feeling her hard gaze Wesker looked away realizing he mindlessly forgot his sunglasses in his car._

_**It seems this will surely be an adventurous meeting.  
**__What was it about his sunglasses that made him feel in control? Why did he need the damn things period? He was a cold hearted bastard within, he knew it, but they didn't; that was it. He knew that if he allowed his guard to be down even for a moment, a friendly gaze in one of their simple minded directions and they would have considered him an equal, and he was no such thing. What was he going to do though? Get up and rudely leave for a split second, then return with a pair of sunglasses on? No. Even he found the thought absurd enough to leave it be._

_He took a deep breath, his composure in check, his demeanor in place. He looked at the younger woman, who looked peculiarly familiar to him; he threw it aside knowing she probably just had one of those faces, "Ms. Valentine."_

_Jill spoke up, "Please, call me Jill."_

_"Ms. Valentine." He said, this time a bit forcefully aggravated that she spoke rudely interrupting him, "We are here because I am to tell you that you have been approved. Irons has signed you onto the Alpha Team, you will be working under me. Seeing as how you have a background and have trained under the US Army's Delta Force I don't see why we should have to train you. With that being said, we want you to start a bit earlier than expected."_

_Jill felt eased by the news, the sooner the better, "When do I start?"_

_"We will be expecting you on the seventeenth, no later." Wesker said trying to advert his eyes elsewhere. She was drawing him in, that trustworthy look upon her face. There was this innocence to her looks that he had never known before. She was truly good, that was something he could see in all she was. She was bright, determined, and an excellent asset to the STARS Alpha Team._

_Was it wrong of him to feel bad about bringing her into something that was about to turn to shit? Was it wrong of him to wish he had went above his obligations to bring the woman in? What was it about her that Spencer wanted anyhow? Was it something to do with her background? Had her father stolen something valuable from Spencer himself?_

_**No. If that was the case the man would have already been exterminated.**__  
Then what was it about this woman that made her a 'need' in this gathering?_

_Could he find it in himself to allow something horrible to happen to her? Since the age of nineteen he had seen some horrible things, he had seen people turn into creatures, and had even done it with his own hands a time or two. Even he would admit it was a mad world they lived in and he was only adding to that aspect. But still, why the hell did he feel so bad for one life form when he hadn't minded wiping out their whole existence? Why did he feel bad knowing that she would be in the middle of all this mess? Half his life had gone by and he had never felt so much doubt in himself, so why now? Why her? What the hell was it that was making him feel this way? He had only met the bitch once, so **why**?_

_Little did Wesker know that these very questions would still swarm his thoughts eight years later._

_Regardless of his weak human emotions, he wouldn't allow this woman to be his downfall. He wouldn't allow her to take away his bright future, or ambitions. He was a narcissist; all he cared about was himself._

_If it came down to it, Wesker decided he would be the one to take her last breath._

* * *

__**September 6, 2006 12:56 PM**

  
Chris exited into the lobby of the airport, David Trapp still by his side. Chris hadn't ate or slept in days, his hygiene kept up just enough to where he at least didn't smell, yet; the only thing on his mind was her. In his dreams she would cry out to him, pleading for him to end her life, to save her from the nothing she had become, his mind was fucking with him, punishing him for what he allowed to happen. The dream was too much to endure, every time he woke up it was like pulling the scab off a healing wound, ripping it open just to allow the blood to pour twice as much as it had the time before. The past few nights he seen no point in making his endless suffering worse, instead he forced himself awake with copious amounts of energy drinks and strength workouts.

Chris didn't want to deal with his little sister, if anything she was the last person on the face of the planet that he wanted to see right now. But thanks to Trapp he was only a minuet away from being bombarded with one hundred questions…He could hear them all now…  
Chris how are you feeling? Chris why haven't you shaved? Chris do you want me to get you something to eat? Chris are you okay? Chris do you need me to get you anything? Chris do you need me? Chris…Chris. It would be the sum of Chris this and Chris that.  
_Fuck Chris, who gave a flying cunts ass about Chris. Chris is the reason Jill jumped out of a goddamn window with that goddamn monstrosity that was Albert fucking Wesker._  
Chris never said he wasn't his own worst enemy.  
_  
_Rounding the corner and there they sat, not just Claire, but sullenly dulled faces that he hadn't seen in an eternity. _Great, a funeral and a family reunion._  
Chris growled at David, who only picked up the pace making his way toward the crowd who all stared pitifully at Chris. It took everything in him not to turn and run, but he thought of her…what would she do? What would she have done if the roles were reversed? Jill was always the caring one who thought things through, the one who put herself and feelings aside for others in need. He wanted to feel her hands wrap around his bicep and push him forward. He wanted her to tell him that everything would be okay, that this was just a chapter in his unwritten book. That it would be short and severely painful though he would get through it like any other…but how could he do it without her? He was nothing without her, she was all he was. She made him who he was, Christopher Redfield. Since that very day they signed their souls into their partnership, it was _them_, not him.

Claire stepped forward, pulling her grizzly of a brother into a sisterly hug. The list of all the things she wanted to say to him slipped from her grasp, after seeing his defeated face. She had never seen Chris under such wreckage. He was always the Redfield who kept up the strong act even at his weakest. Knowing that this was what remained of her old brother, the leftover scraps of the man he used to be, killed her. It destroyed her to see him in such a way. She pulled him out of her grasp and looked up into his exhausted face, "I love you, brother."

His jaw clinched and unclenched, it wasn't that he was mad, it was just nice to hear those words come out of her mouth, a relief, "I love you too, Red." He muttered almost silently.

Letting go he got a good glimpse of everyone who came to see the show. Barry Burton stepped up, the man still just as muscled and looked the same, only greyer and aged. He gave Chris a pat on the back, reassuring him that he would get through it, then took a seat next to Andrews.

Everyone gawked at him awkwardly not knowing what to say, Jill was usually the one who broke the ice for him. He didn't know how to be social, she was the one who always stood out in the crowd and made everything comfortable for him.

Claire, who was still standing beside her older brother, spoke up, "Due to my cooking skills being well, not so great, I've order pizza. So, if everyone wants to follow us on over to my place we will get this little get together started!"

**1:48 PM**  
  
Chris escaped the 'shindig' to sit outside on Claire's balcony. The silence of the day around him screamed the truth, only making him chug down the bottle of tequila and move on to the bourbon; not giving two flying fucks if the mixture killed him or not, at least he would die with his mind at ease. He couldn't wrap his head around it. Everywhere he turned, every move he made, he always out of habit knew Jill would be there. For things like this, she would have been the one he turned to, she was who he needed. Tears streamed down his scruffy face, he hated feeling so vulnerable, but then again that's what Jill had always made him.

Why hadn't he said it then and there? Three simple fucking words that could have easily rolled off the tip of his tongue without thought stayed glued in one spot. Why? Because they were in a death mission? _Hell, for fuck sakes we were always in a death mission that was our goddamn lives, and the one time when it actually was a 'death' mission I chickened out like a fucking pussy. Chicken-Shit Redfield.  
_He stood up, throwing the tequila bottle into a tree, its shattering sound overpowered by his screaming, "I fucking love you, there are you happy?!"

"I love you too, but jeez Redfield, tell it to the whole neighborhood why don't you?" Chris turned around infuriated, looking behind him to see the younger agent, Leon S. Kennedy.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Chris growled, angered by the fact he wasn't alone anymore.

Leon, who had known and trained under Jill for a few months after becoming an agent, only gave a smirk to Chris. Not showing him any pity whatsoever. Sure, the man was in pain? But why the hell make that the topic of conversation? "Your sister invited me."

"Figures." Chris said sitting back in his place as Leon dragged over one of Claire's lounge chairs, placing it beside him.

"Come out here to lecture me on my drinking habits? Or did you just come out here to model for me and sing me a tune by one of your favorite boy-bands?" Chris drunkenly spoke in Leon's direction, his dull sense of humor falling from his dry lips.

"Only if you pay me in dollar bills." Leon said picking up Chris's bourbon and taking a giant gulp before passing it over to Chris, not denying the man of his rights to self-medicating.

Chris more than happily took the glass bottle out of his hands, taking a drink of the burning liquid as he stared out into the wilderness behind Claire's house. In reality Leon had grown to be one of his closest male friends. The BSAA had a few missions with the SOA a time or two making Leon, Jill, and Chris a trio every now and then.

"The reason I came out here was to give you this." Leon said handing Chris a sealed envelope, Chris tensed his eyes in response angrily.

"Jill just died and you expect me to hop right in and save the fucking world when it just took the most important thing to me out of it? No, Kennedy. No." His words were shaky, raged, and un-understanding as to why Leon would ask such a thing of him.

"That's not what this is." Leon responded, his voice still just as calm.

"Then what the hell is it, Kennedy?!" Chris asked growling agitated.

Leon shrugged, "Claire asked me to stop by your house, just to pack a few things for you on my way in, and this was peeking out under your door mat."

Chris took the letter from Leon, flipping it over on the back he noticed the penmanship all too well, it was hers. He manically ripped into it, not knowing what the hell it was. Had she sent it to him before they left and just forgot to tell him? Maybe it was his birthday card that got delivered months too late? But no…he had received his birthday card from her this year, so what was it?

Flipping open the folded pieces of notebook paper he began to read.

_August 26, 2009_

_Chris,_

_If you're reading this than that means something has happened to me. Call me morbid but I always make sure to write you one of these before we head out just in case. I don't know why but I feel as though I have to tell you so much even when I will be seeing you in just an hour. It's silly isn't it? Who am I kidding, you probably won't even read this, I will more than likely end up trashing it like I have several others in the past and this will be just be another few pieces of paper wasted on my thoughts and things I feel are important._

_Maybe I'm being all sentimental right now because I just finished skimming through the mappings of the Spencer Estate in Europe? It just brought so many horrible memories and feelings back to life that I am honestly regretting accepting the job. But, that's our job right? Others before ourselves. Maybe this time everything will come to an end…I mean can you imagine a world without B.O.W.S.? Hell, we would never see a day's pay again. Though, I think I would honestly be alright with that given the circumstances we are put in on a day to day basis. Plus, if we really can put an end to Spencer, this will put us one step closer to being completed human beings again…maybe something to put an end to all the nightmares once and for all?_

_Look at me, writing this out like a page from my diary when in reality this letter is all that will be left of who I used to be and what you get out of it._

_BUT! FIRST AND FOREMOST!_  
_Chris I need you to know that if you're blaming yourself (I don't give a flying fuck if you are to blame) stop! It doesn't matter, you know my beliefs and the next time you see me you are going to think I joined a reggae band. Joking. Seriously though, stop. It's not doing you any good, and I need you to be happy. Live for me Redfield. That's my dying wish, just breathe for me, because though you can't see me, I can see you, and I don't want to look at your greasy unwashed ass any more than anyone else does. Clean yourself up, eat, take a nap, kick back and have a Doctor Who marathon with your sister because guess what buddy boy? You're fucking alive, and I'm not. ;) Don't make me kick your ass Redfield because you know I will, no god can hold me back from that, promise._

_Secondly, all deaths come with a will right? Well, here's a no brainier, you get everything. Do with it as you please, sell it, junk it, I don't care. All I ask is that you give Dick half the funds out of my savings account, you'll know the one, and you can keep the rest. Oh, and I know the first thing you're going to go for is my flat screen, all I ask is that you veg out and kick back with a bag of skittles for me while watching 300, you lucky bastard. Also, make sure that you give Barry back the Beretta. It meant so much to him and I would hate for it to go un-used seeing as how you hate the damn thing anyway. (I'm sure you will receive the 'official' will letter from my lawyer in 1-2 weeks, give or take.)_

_Okay, last but not least…_  
_If I did die and you're not dead to then that means there are some things that I need to tell you that have been stirring inside my noggin for, well the past almost decade I guess you could say? Chris I know that you know how I feel, and in this letter I'm not going to deny it. Yes, Chris, you were my one and only…that's all I'm going to say because if I admit it here then truly what's the point? I just need you to know that you were the last thing on my mind before I fell asleep at night, and I'm sure you were my last thought before I died. Just for fucks-sake please tell me it wasn't a damn hell hound, if it was I am just rolling in the grave right now. Ignore that part if by some chance I did die by one, and if my body was un-casket-able. (Sorry, with my sense of humor you know I had too.) But, seriously, you were my life, and not a day goes by that I ever regret meeting you. You were the best thing that ever happened to me._

_I'm going to end this here, though I wish I could go on for an eternity I am still alive and have things to do as we speak. Besides I'm pretty positive I just heard your noisy ass truck pull up. Which means, go figure, you're late again Redfield, but that's okay because I wouldn't want you any other way._

_Please, find peace with yourself._

_Yours truly, forever and always._  
_Jill._


	10. Chapter Nine: Silver and Cold

**Though the chapter turned out a bit short here it is! :D Thanks for all the favs/reviews/&follows!**

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May 24, 1978  
Umbrella Research Center, Raccoon City.  
  
_It was that time of the year again. The freshly green mountains surrounding the estate shined brightly in the sun. The smell of rain and blooming flowers were the only scent that found themselves playing upon the backyard of the Spencer Estate._

In the shade a blonde young scientist found himself sitting by the fountain eating lunch as he had every day since accepting Spencer's all too generous offer. He was nineteen today, not that he showed any acknowledgement to that fact, and though his life around him had been taken over with death he was more than alive.

He felt fulfilled because today was the day that Wesker would find himself on his own case instead of falling behind some immature non-intelligent bastard who called himself a true 'researcher'. Today was his day to shine unlike any other; he would truly prove to Spencer he was worth a damn.

Feeling enough of nature for one day he finished his lunch; placing the brown bag in disposal. Going back in he made his way down through the research facility, as he did he mentally resided every detail on the page of the specimen he would be running multiple tests on.

She was placed under the file, SUBJECT NO: 6277, yet her paper work indicated her first name started with an S., and her last name Eames. She was only three years old, almost four if you wanted to be exact. Her blood type was one of a kind, B, though if you looked close enough you would see that she was the first human to truly bond and survive the deadly beta testing of William Birkin's latest and greatest T-Virus.

Wesker hadn't seen this with his own eyes, so therefore it was fiction not fact. To believe someone so young to be injected with the barely functional virus and live was unthinkable. Yes, Birkin was a genius that was indeed the truth and under Spencer's wing he was untouchable. But to birth a whole new breed of engineered beings? Was that truly possible?

"Here goes nothing." Wesker muttered as he scrubbed his hands; then after walked directly into the sanitizing room.

Holding out his hands a nurse placed medical gloves upon them, stepping in front of the motion door, it sprang open revealing a child, not sedated but fully awake - in fact her eyes were looking up from her coloring sheets and now staring him down. The woman sitting in the corner dropped her gaze as Wesker glanced her way. _**Her guilty mother perhaps?**___

What was he supposed to do? Hold the child down while he drew her blood? No... Even though Wesker had never dealt with kids before he knew that wouldn't work. They were wild and unruly. Having not one ounce of patience in his bones, Wesker could hardly tolerate the nose picking, insufferably loud humans.

The girl made the first move, for a three year old she looked beyond her years. Her eyes showing so much life and determination as if she had lived decades. She tilted her head to the side, getting a closer look at him.

He couldn't read her, she was a strongly bound book; sealed shut with a padlock. Her eyes showing no path to her soul. Did she even have one? If it was true that she bonded with the virus did she adapt to its features? Had it stripped the child of her humanity? Surely not.  
_**If that was the case she would be mauling me to get a fresh chunk of skin off my calf.  
**__  
Who was the strange man in the white coat? She had seen many of his kind but not one that looked like him. There was something about him, it was different. Maybe he was like her? She had never felt such a drive to trust, her tiny fully functional brain couldn't wrap itself around the curiosity prying inside._

She couldn't see his eyes, meaning she couldn't read him, making her feel a sense of uneasiness. Why would he wear such an accessory indoors? She had only seen her mother where them outside when the sun was blinding her sight, even then it was a rarity.

The child was more than determined to reverse the rolls. She would study him more than he would ever study her. She would be the researcher, and she would get her answers. She knew how these things worked, after all she had visited the facility almost every day of her existence.

Her bare feet smacked against the cold floor as she became face to face with the blonde haired stranger. She hated this place, she hated that sound, she hated the old man who sat in the mirrored window; she didn't know him by name, only that he was the one in the painting upstairs in the pretty castle. She hated it all. But what could she do? Every time she tried to fight off coming her mother gave her a burny (a sedative) that placed her in what her mother called "Wonderland" until they got to the doctor.

She innocently didn't understand any of it. Being too young to attend school she hadn't been around other children to know she was any different. All she knew was that this was what life was, and like it or not she was created to deal with such a hassle.

Wesker flinched as the tiny hand grabbed his. Though his hand was masked with rubber he felt a flared spark. He looked down, nothing was out of the ordinary; shrugging it off he placed the blame on his mind just being overly imaginative due to lack of sleep.

Pulling him along, he found himself at her table. Various cartoons on already colored pages, and crayons scattered the small rounded surface. Letting go she took her place, putting a hand out as to tell Wesker to take a seat. He agreed taking a seat across from her, unsure of what he was supposed to do.

Spencer had only told him to study her. By study her, Wesker had thought he meant draw her blood, then look into the results, now though it was quite clear that it was the exact opposite of what he was supposed to do. _**First job on my own and I'm playing Mary bloody Poppins, excellent.**___

Getting a closer look, his gloved hands moved the coloring sheets that were all colored perfectly, not one color out of line. "Why do you wear those?" Wesker looked up surprised by the child's speech. The voice was childlike but spoke in such a mature way that it threw him back.

What had they done? Was this truly a new species for the human race? Had Spencer succeeded?

Shrugging from his silence the girl dropped her gaze from the man and back down to her art, "It's okay. You don't have to be afraid."

Afraid? Albert Wesker afraid of a child? He wanted to laugh, but wasn't it true...wasn't he just a tad bit spooked? Not that he would ever admit that he in fact was. But, not because of her exactly, only because he was insecure he would never be as great as Birkin. What if he became the newest entry to the "test subject" department due to his lack of accomplishments? No, no…he couldn't have that. Even Wesker knew his envious ways were hilarious. He knew he was great, and he also knew that given everything he would survive.

"I'm not." He started to say as she cut him off.

"You are." She calmly stated as she stood up to grab something off the floor. He on the other hand was speechless. For the first time in Wesker's life he hadn't one word to say. Her intelligence broke all that he was, he couldn't understand. She was a scientific miracle.

"It's okay though. You wouldn't be the first." She said shifting through what Wesker could now see was a pink flowered duffle bag.

Changing the subject Wesker shifted the conversation her way, answering her question, "I wear them simply because I can."

Finding what she desired, she took her seat, a teddy bear now present in her hand. She nodded in response to his answer picking up a crayon, "I don't like them."

Wesker drew his mouth in a straight line, he was getting nowhere with this child. He felt as though he was failing and that was making him rather frustrated. He took a deep breath, the vein pulsing near his temple vibrated as he calmed the rage. He knew he would get nowhere with the tiny human if he flared out at her.

She could sense his anger and she looked up at him. His face unreadable, like a stone statue. The aura resonating off his pale skin, as he clutched down on his covered palm, that very way he was biting down on his bottom lip; was his body language confirming she was correct. Feeling the need to do something the toddler stood up once more, making her way over to where he was sitting. Wesker stiffly shifted in his seat, awkwardly looking down upon the little girls exhausted face.

Reaching up her soft cold palm touched his face, warmth surged into them both, like an electric fire, which Wesker felt before only this time their flesh was touching and it was undeniable, and he couldn't find the strength to shrug it off.

What had they created? The T-Virus surely hadn't done this. He had seen the beta test specimens; they were barely audible, she though was in full control. There was something more, something that Spencer hadn't felt the need to place in her file. Something that he would eventually, given the time, figure out.

A calming sense resonated over his whole body. Was she controlling him too? What the hell was going on? He tried to move his face out of her grasp, the tiny palm placed on his face refused to shift; an impossible revoking force forbidding him movement.

"Stop." She said, feeling his face try and breech against her hand, her eyes staring at his covered face.

He listened, now to intrigued by the creature to disobey; she was a child after all. Her fingers laced around his glasses as she carefully pulled them off his face, folding them, she placed them on top of the round table as she looked into the eyes of her acquaintance.

Galaxy edged eyes stared into one another as the constellation fell into place. And she now knew with every ounce of her being that Albert Wesker was someone she could place her faith in. 

* * *

**September 13, 2006 8:44 AM**  
**Redfield Residence, USA.**

Home. One word with one simple meaning. When you hear the word your mind pictures a place of calm serenity where nothing could ever go wrong; a safe haven so to speak. So, why was the word so foreign to Chris Redfield?

Here he was in his own bed, in his own house, and still it no longer felt like a place he belonged. Looking up at the ceiling as he had done one thousand nights before he attempted to cope with the facts, trying in some way to ease the nagging guilt prying out his insides.

The tear stained note laid on his nightstand, her words suffocating him as he continued to deny the outcome of events that had only happened a few weeks ago. How could she be dead when they hadn't even found a body? Was it even possible? Then again, if she were alive she would have surfaced by now…that is unless Wesker had something to do with it. Unlikely, he seen them both fall, but still if having him still alive meant Jill was he would bite that bullet any day.

With that one thing still lingering on his mind he put the thought into action. Chris set up, pulling on the shirt that laid lazily beside his bed. After doing so he made his way down the hall, quietly, so not to wake up his baby sister, more like _babysitter_, Claire.

Claire, who took early vacation, decided it best to stay with Chris at least until they found what had become of her brothers partner. She knew that Chris would need a shoulder to lean on and she was more than happy to be his crutch; as he had done for countless times before. Though the gesture was sincere, Chris found it rather annoying that his younger sibling was trying to play the eldest. He knew her heart was in the right place, but Chris being Chris would have rather stubbornly dealt with the grief alone. She only tended to make things, like drinking for instance, more difficult to get away with.

Reaching the front door successfully, he closed and locked it behind him as he made his way to his jeep. Hopping into the driver's seat he placed the key in the ignition; the machine awakening with a rumble as Chris shifted into reverse and out of his driveway.

He instinctively allowed his hands and feet to guide the way, almost as if he was unaware of what he was doing until he pulled into Jill's apartment complex barely even three minutes later. Parking he made his way to her door, unlocking it with his spare key.

The door squeaked open, a tiny lamp on her kitchen counter dimly lighting his path. Breathing in he smelt her, she was all around him. A gentle aroma of butterscotch mixed with vanilla strawberries; a heavenly, recently rare scent, to his nostrils. Routinely he kicked off his shoes by the door, then made his way further in knowing already that Dick was out on the prowl, surely getting shit faced.  
_Lucky bastard._

Though Chris had never pried Jill about her relationship with her father he had always wondered. Sure, he might not have won an award for being the brightest parent of all time but still yet he cared…Wasn't that all that mattered? Or did coming from a broken home just fuck up his sense of right and wrong? He didn't know, and didn't care; it wasn't worth thinking on.

His feet weren't his anymore, his brain commanded them, walking him to her closed bedroom door. He contemplated on knocking then remembered the hell of a situation he found himself trapped within. Jill didn't need privacy anymore...Jill was gone. Sighing he turned the nob and entered the spacious, but rather elegant bedroom of his partner.

Jill out of the two was never one for decorating, or hell unpacking for that matter, but still yet her bedroom carried a twisted edgy, yet vintage chic styled look much to her liking. A bed placed against a brick wall was surrounded by photographs, some old and some new, of them, their teammates; _their only true family_.

Chris stumbled over to it allowing his body to collapse on her bed. Grabbing her body pillow, which he had made fun of her for having on several occasions, he wrapped his arms tightly around it as though he was embracing her. He breathed into the floral cloth succumbing all that was left of her perfume scented skin. She was his home; for now all he could do was pretend she was here.  
And that's exactly what he did.

* * *

**September 13, 2006 8:44 AM  
Umbrella Facility, Europe.  
**  
A needle pierced her skin. Her eyes fluttered open, a frosted glass like haze blurred her vision but she knew the man's uncanny features. His silhouette strong though she only seen the colors of him blurred into a fogged mist.

Wesker placed the blood filled vial on the table beside him as he checked her healing wounds. Due to his round the clock medical assistance they were healing rather nicely. Still her internal damage still had him concerned. There were also still a few shards of glass and debris left in her swelled limbs, but he would have to wait until the puffiness died away. He had kept her at bay this long, but how much longer would she survive with only his care? That was the million dollar question.

_How long have I been out? What's he doing to me? Where am I?!_  
Struggling she managed to twitch her finger, the movement catching Wesker's eyes. Befuddled he looked in her direction amazed to see she was indeed functioning to a point.

Wesker who had been struggling with himself more than usual lately had found a nurturing sense of nature to himself and would be lying if he said he wasn't overjoyed by such an act of life springing from her body. Still there was this bit of him, just a sliver of insanity that wanted to act out the sinister fantasy rerolling in his mind of him picking up the scalpel from the medical table next to him and slitting her throat, then after place her drained corpse on Redfield's doorstep just to watch the man suffer. Though at this point the un-animalistic side remained alpha, Jill was safe in his arms…for now anyway.

Jill's throat felt dry, her mind only giving her enough indication that she was breathing. The high dosage of morphine he was giving her was taking its toll, for that she was thankful. Yet the question remained, why?

Why was he saving her? Jill wasn't ignorant, he wasn't saving her, he was only using her. She knew it more than true. She was to be his 'little test specimen' as he stated last time she woke up. Wesker might have been her savior but he sure as hell wasn't a saint, and there was no way she would fall for such bullshit of him being her 'knight and shining armor', she had undying self-respect and even mentally wouldn't stoop to such a level indignity. The man before her eyes was a demon, a demon who just a day or so ago attempted to take Chris's life. She would give Wesker no thanks for such a strange act of kindness even if he had saved her life.

Jill stopped thinking for a minute, her mentality shockingly alerted to the situation at hand. She was actually here, her mind wasn't filling with a never ending labyrinth of questions. It wasn't clouded it, it wasn't suppressed, it was awake and alive.

"Move your hand." Wesker commanded. His inhumane eyes staring down upon the ligaments of what was left of her shredded right hand.

Jill focused, not wanting to obey, but more than eager to prove to herself that she still had control over her body. The sooner she recovered, the sooner she could escape the death grip of her nemesis and return to Chris.

The torn flesh revealed moving muscle as it flexed and un-flexed as if she were trying to make a fist. Finally fighting her paralyzed state she moved a finger, it wasn't much but it was something, and that something was more than enough to prove to Wesker that Jill was anything but ordinary.

Jill watched as a menacing smirk made its way upon Albert Wesker's usually stone cold features. Her 20/20 eyesight making its way back into play as Wesker shined a bright flashlight in them, testing her pupil response.

"Impossible." He mumbled.

What was impossible? What had her ex captain so _struck_ with wonder?_  
_  
Her lips moved as if to ask, her throat felt as though it was going to crack like dried out mud in the desert, "Wa..." An irrefutable pain flared into her neck like a spearing blade. Forcing her to stop, but she got her point across, Wesker knew what she was aiming to say.

Speeding off he ran down the hall to the abandoned break room. A second gone, and he was back in front of her, a bottle of water in tow and something else. Tearing into a paper package of gauze Wesker soaked the bandages with the drinkable liquid. Jill's eyes fixated on the wetness pouring from the plastic bottle.

Was she dehydrated? The question made her wonder how long she had actually been unconscious for.

"This might not be quite to your liking, but, it's the best I can do for now, Jill." He said placing the soaked bandage in front of her begging mouth; her dry lips cracking from the force as she pried them open.

The taste was unbelievably intoxicating. Jill had never known water to have a taste, it was indescribable. The moistness of the water lubing her mouth as Wesker squeezed gently; nursing her like a wounded animal, not that she was complaining.

Wesker had always seen vulnerability as a sickening weakness but this was a whole other level. Sure, Jill was vulnerable at best but her will powered strength was respectable. She was a mystery to him... A human, a woman at that, showing so much power at such a feeble and dying state? He felt joy knowing that she might just work to his advantage after all.

She swallowed it all down, gladly accepting the gift from her enemy. Would she feel guilty for showing such obedience to his request later on in this game? Or would she be thankful to herself that she swallowed her pride and gave into such a joyous action? She would have to wait and respond to that question when she awoke. As her body lost its grasp on consciousness, she closed her eyes, welcoming another comatose sleep.


	11. Chapter Ten: Scars

**I'm sorry it took me so long to update. All things life kicked my ass this past week giving me absolutely no time to write, haha. Anyway, thank you for all for all the reviews and follows! :D**

PS, bare with me. I'm sure you all are tired of Chris's overly whiny attitude (though he has good reasoning) as of late but it will shift within the next couple chapters! **;)**

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Her bare feet crunched under the cold fragments of ice as the chilling wind whispered lost words of memories long forgotten. The snowflakes fell upon her bare aching skin as she found herself surrounded by a frozen forest; mirrors hung by lace from the fragile branches.

Her reflection was painted; different sides of herself, various tales from her story. Her burdened agony lingered upon the glass world. Her eyes locked with another.

Was it her?

She was vulnerable, beaten into self-deterioration. Immobilized by her fear she tried to turn toward the weeping cry behind her, defeated her body refused. Instead she looked into the creatures eyes that wore her face, its rapturing light offering her soul deliverance as she cried out into the silent night.

Reaching out she touched the glass, a yearning sensation striking through her core as death laid before her eyes; fallen angels at her feet. A beckoning wail yearns out to her. Jill approaches holding out her hand welcoming her tormented life the chance to breathe freedom once more.

Her hand caresses a ghost as the lady in white fades to black.

One thousand mirrors shatter at her wake, her soul screeched for deliverance as she tried to pick up the shards of herself. Reaching down to cup her hands full of the broken debris, her hands began to bleed. Thick intoxicating wine poured down to her fingertips as she gave into her self-indulged madness.

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__

**June 17, 1979  
Umbrella Research Center, Raccoon City.**__

His overused eyes sagged as he struggled to keep himself awake for another thirty minutes, at least, to finish up what was remaining of his file-work. As of late Spencer had been using Wesker to his advantage. This gave Wesker an exceptional feeling; allowing him to toss all the doubts he had about being thrown into the wastes aside. For the time being that is.

A year had passed since he had come in contact with Sera Eames, and yet she still resided as an unsolved mystery to him. Despite the fact Wesker hadn't collected much information on her, other than what was already suspected within the recent group of researchers, he had grown rather attached to the baby tyrant.

Little did Wesker know that his tolerance for the uncontrollable child was what was keeping his head above the surface in Mr. Ozwell's shark tank. Behind closed curtains Spencer had watched their relationship blossom, and the more he saw, the more elated he was with his ongoing experiment.

Wesker forced his eyes to look upon the stone wall, a clock stating that he had been working a total of eighty-three hours without any rest. Even if it would only be a short nap period he was looking forward to it unlike any other; sleep was the one thing on his ambitiously drained brain.

His office door squeaked open, the noise echoing in the tiny un-personalized area. Wesker whose eyes were shifted back to his paper work were now on the dark haired tan figure that was his secretary.

Her fingers twirled at the hem of her dress, shaking in fear of the man who rested upon her eyes. He hated the way she fidgeted, always on edge as if he was going to snap her neck.  
But wasn't that honestly the case when it came to Wesker?  
**_Smart Girl._**

_"Sir." She said peeking her head in. Her body placed out in the hallway, "You're needed in Lab 93."_

"For what cause?" He said coldly disinterested, acting as though his attention was elsewhere.

"It's the girl Sir, 6277. There's been an emergency."

Her words barely escaped her lips before Wesker was mobilized, his human heart pounding insecurely in his chest. He had feared this moment ever since he had met the girl. Knowing more-so likely that any second her miniature heart could give out due to the exposure of the many viruses Spencer had forced within her; he knew even with such a miracle there would come a time when the child's body would fail. The thought always weighed heavily on him, but he never though he would witness the day.

He pushed passed the on edge woman, his face hard, unreadable. Barely unclenching his jaw a vocal growl sprang from his lips making her shiver inwardly, "Why wasn't I noted sooner?"

She found her eyes planted on her feet unable to meet his covered gaze. Nothing she did was ever right or good enough for the vile man, so why even try?  
_**Your life is in his hands.**__  
Taking that mental note, she released her breath and spoke carefully not wanting another accident on her hands like last weeks._

"I-uh, sir I just found out."

Her high pitched voice was an intolerable annoyance to his ears, it made him want to claw his eyes out.  
_**Always with the excuses, this one.  
**__He held up his hand, daring the woman to say another word. She found herself choking on her tongue at the gesture as the man sped around the corner and up to where the little girl was being held. She took a deep peaceful breath, hating herself for hoping he wouldn't return._

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**December 1, 2006 12:09 PM  
BSAA North America Headquarters**

Claire sat among the distraught crowd of tear stained strangers. All hope had been stripped and long forgotten. To them Jillian E. Valentine had died while serving her country, and that's all she wrote. Claire fumbled on the bittersweet feeling of disbelief that filled her heart. The thought of Jill dead was unpractical, too unrealistic even for her to believe…let alone Chris.

The past three and a half months had been like living in a burning building, every day with Jill gone the flames grew higher, taking her brothers sanity bit by bit. Three days ago her brother had gotten the dreaded call they knew was coming; both completely unprepared for the ache it would cause.

The BSAA had given their all in search for her, only this time their all wasn't enough and Jill was declared lost at sea. Several BSAA members, even a few of the higher ups, including Chris, had set up camp inside the Estate but found only the earpiece that was lost during the battle in Spencer's office.

Knowing that they wouldn't find much of anything else HQ sent Chris home two days prior to the 29th of November, the date she was declared officially deceased, so that when the news was given Chris could be surrounded by his loved ones; not that it helped.

Seventy-Two hours and Chris hadn't spoken a word, ate one bite, or slept. He only stared out his bedroom window. His blinking and quite breaths were the only things that proved to Claire he was still alive when she would go in late at night to check on him.

And now here they were and this was it. This was all so unjust, unfair, the words of loss indescribable. How was she going to help her brother out of this mess? How was she going to live with the worry of Chris taking his life? Would he do such a thing? This time, Claire knew the answer and the chance was greater than none.

The way he collapsed to the ground after that call. How he punched manically at the wall while on his hands and knees. His face purple as he begged whatever God above to exchange their souls. His mourning cries of agony taking his breath which hitched ruefully in his throat as he hyperventilated.

Claire wanted to take it all away, the pain, and his guilt. She wanted to cure it with her sisterly embrace, but not even that could bring her brother back for as she held him, petting his head as his sobs turned into quivers of shock he mumbled four words that made her stomach churn rapidly with uneasiness.  
"I want to die."

**12:10 PM**

Standing in front of the body length mirror Chris stared upon every scar on his body, all visible but the deepest. He could barely find the strength to button his dress shirt, his hands trembling with starvation. His palms grew sweaty as the failed attempts turned into three, then four, and then Chris's fist was through the mirror.

Chris hadn't felt anything for a good month. The world around him was spinning regularly but for him it had come to a complete halt. It was as if he was walking on a ghost plain; there was no sun, the flowers and all things colorful rotted in his waking step. Nothing felt real to him, it was imaginary. The suffering fed off all that was remaining of his soul; until now.

The stinging cuts on his knuckles formed into a stream of grievous blood. As he squeezed his hand into a tight fist the flow became all that more powerful. Mesmerized he embraced the pain, it felt good, it made him feel human; alive. It was beautiful, and he fell in love with how his dejected sorrow poured out under his control. All his pitiful emotions drained the tighter he squeezed.

Rapid bangs began to emerge from the other side of the door breaking Chris out of his trance as he gave no acknowledgment to than man who just kicked down the door. He didn't need a lecture about being late for Jill's funeral. For fucksake the BSAA was lucky he even made an appearance.

A dripping noise like something that would come from a leaky faucet blared into the silence like a siren making the retired police officer look to the floor; a tiny puddle of blood becoming apparent on the white tiles.

The older man took a seat on one of the benches, his hands clasped together lazily as he stared up at his ex-comrade, "I wish there was something I could say or do to make this easier for ya, Red."

Chris closed his eyes, uplifted to hear the rough gruff voice of Barry Burton. Chris thought it best to turn around in respect for his elder. His eyelids barely lifting as he fumbled under heavy weight, his body relieved when he made it to the bench.

Barry was more of a dad to him than his biological father ever was, the man had taught him practically everything he needed to know. Before Jill was ever in Chris's life if something went horribly wrong he would turn to Barry, and without a doubt Barry would lift his spirits unlike any other; until Jill came along.

Here he sat by someone he hadn't seen in ages, except for the few seconds during the cookout months back, and there wasn't one god damn word fighting its way into Chris's mouth. Then again, what was there to say? He had failed, let her slip through his fingers, and could barely admit the fact to himself. Let alone the man he looked up to the most.

Nothing could have ever prepared Chris for such heartache. Sure, he had lost more people than you could count. Hell, that's all that surrounded him was death but not one damn thing could have readied him for the loss he felt for Jill. He wished more than anything that people would blame him. He wished that people would shun and torture him just so he would have an excuse to end his miserable life. He just wanted to wake with her hair in his face while her warm vanilla scented body was wrapped tightly in his muscled embrace. That was all he wanted. Something so simple, yet so out of reach.

Barry understood more than Chris knew. Crossing his buff arms around his chest Barry leaned back against the wall, "After I lost Kathy I was much like you. I blamed myself for everything. I felt as though I was the drunk who smashed into her head on because it should have been me driving that car. Instead I was at home watching football with my buddies while she drove our ill kid to the emergency room."

Chris's brows tensed together in baffled disbelief. How hadn't he gotten word of Kathy's death? How long had he been out of sync with the world around him? How long had he put his selfishness before others?

Finding his voice Chris spoke up, his eyes gloating at the ground, "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

Barry shook his head, "No. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I should have taken the job offer with the BSAA when it was granted to me." He forced himself onto his feet, standing up he looked down at the pitifully drained shell that was Chris, "Ah, Redfield let's get you cleaned up."

Chris nodded and weakly took the hand that was offered down to him. The world spun around him as he held on tightly fighting back the urge to pass out, he succeeded, barely. Holding his head high as Barry quickly snapped the wretched buttons into place.

"Will this feeling ever go away?" Chris finally managed to urge out the question and Barry who had completed his task, placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, much like he had done previously.

Barry answered honestly from his point of view on the situation, "No, son. It won't."

* * *

**June 17, 1979  
Umbrella Research Center, Raccoon City.**

_Making it to the examine room Wesker looked down through the window and into the brightly lit laboratory. A tiny body furiously flaring her legs at several of the subordinate researchers trying to snatch her into their grip. All worry had vanished as he found himself taking a deep breath of relief; a smirk placed upon his inured features, as he watched the show below._

She was a fighter, determined to survive though her chances were slim. And this, this was no emergency. This was only a piece of the few remaining remnants that made her childlike. A simple tantrum.

Thinking it best he briskly paced down the steps, ritually punching in the 6 coded digit when he reached the door. Air released as the solid metal slid open. Her unhappy screams the first thing making themselves apparent as he stepped in.

"No you can't make me!" She was hysterical her tiny fists balled as she ran from the team of researchers.

Without looking away from the men who were to do her harm, she sensed his presence and made her short legs run as fast as possible toward him; her speed implausible and before Wesker even noticed she was behind him.

Her shaking palms clutched helplessly into the cloth of his pants, the pressure intense. Her strength had improved much since last week's injection. Spencer would be more than happy to hear about that succession…or would he even tell him?

It seemed Spencer had torturous things in mind for the child, and as of late with her showing new and improved characteristics he wanted more experimentations done to her. Wesker tried to shrug off that fact, reminding himself that he had kept her stable this long and as long as he was her "Doctor" everything would be okay. Turning the burning thoughts over to elsewhere he focused on the gawking eyes surrounding him. 

_"What is the meaning of this?" Wesker's voice was forceful, he was the lead researcher on file for the girl._

What right had these men had coming in here to do _**his**__ job? It was as though they were masking their stench on __**his**__ territory, something he would never under any circumstance tolerate.  
_  
_One stood in front of the other four, his head held high but barely able to make contact with Wesker's shaded eyes. Wesker's face had grown rather unmarked the past year; emotionless. Which allowed him to successfully master the trait of making others fear him._

Sera found this aggravating and didn't mind complaining her opinions to him about his ruthless acts. She hated what he was becoming, still she could never find it in herself to fear him; he was her protector. For the past year he had shown her nothing but the purest of kindness. To even think Wesker was bad was unimaginable, but she knew the unshielded truth deep down. And all she could do was hope that in the end he would do the right thing, even if that meant putting an end to her existence.

"We got a page from Mr. Spencer telling us to sedate Subject 6277, then after doing so collect a few tissue samples and draw two pints of blood." The man, Hunter something, stated as he attempted keeping an unruffled face.

_**Tissue samples?**__  
They had absolutely no business doing such a task. Wesker's rigid breaths caught in his throat. The burgundy color of blood blinding him as he bit down roughly on his bottom lip.  
Why would Spencer not ask him to do the job? Why send five ignorant researchers to do __**his**__ job?_

His nose flared, "Leave." He commanded toward the men, his arm shifting behind the child's back, holding her protectively in place.

"Wesker, I'm sorry but we have orders." The gentleman said finding what he could of his nerves.

It was true he was only doing his job. Though Wesker had a horrifying manner about him, there was many rumors speculating on Spencer's horrendous dealings with men who didn't do what they were told. When it came down to it he would much rather face Wesker over the old crazed geezer any day.

Gently he pulled himself from Sera's forceful grasp as he made his way savagely toward the man who was now frantically retreating, backing himself up against the padded wall as the animal made his crawling pounce upon him.

With their faces inches from one another, Wesker couldn't help but find his claws digging into covered flesh while he pulled on the collar of his lab coat. Pushing the man against the wall, he watched joyously as the violent act made the man's lungs feel weak; the man started hacking, his hot breath spewing disgustingly all over Wesker's face.

"It wasn't a question, it was a command. Now, are you going to listen or will my words fall upon your benighted ears? Because, if that's the case we can settle this issue in another room." Controlling his tone he harshly made his point apparent whilst breaking into the man's skin. The researcher's eyes shifted toward the girl and then to the door, unable to look his superior in the eyes.

Nodding carefully he hesitated to move until Wesker straightened his collar with a toying grin; coolly he shifted his body out of the man's way. Wesker's blue eyes tensed and if looks could kill he would have shown no pity upon the fool. The researcher retreated his men silently out of the beast's lair.

Sera who found safety watched Wesker's display of actions. Her head tilted to the side in interest to see what Wesker was holding back all this time. Piece by piece she was figuring him out as she promised herself she would succeed in doing from day one.

After studying his body movements and the unique way his eyes took in the world she knew he was different from any ordinary 'dull' human as he claimed to be. He was different from all the others, not personality wise, but genetically…he was designed to fight a great battle.

He had to be the same as her? Maybe only he was a failed experiment?  
From what her adolescent ears had picked up from wondering the halls that was a regular thing to happen around this place. Still, even she knew she was much too young to understand the world around her, but the day would come soon enough. For now though, this was just all too much.

Spencer grinned while staring down at the black and white surveillance footage. He had gotten more than he had ever dreamed to happen. Wesker was playing the cards all correctly without even acknowledging the fact that his presence was a part of this game. _  
__**Took to the fetus monster like a mother to its wounded bastard.**_

_Once Wesker placed his emotions in check he turned to face the child who had pinned herself into the corner. Was he really to take tissue samples from such an innocent creature? True, he would rather do the procedure than those with little experience in the field…but would he really need too? Surely he could talk Spencer out of it someway._

He hated how this child made him feel, territorial, that was the word. But why? It wasn't like she was any relation to him, and Wesker having no true family had nothing to relate these emotions too. It felt as though someone had imprinted her into his heart. And though he despised every vulnerability the girl placed within him, he would have taken on the world for her even if that meant being served the ultimate fate of death; which here lately he felt he deserved for baring such an intolerable weakness.

Making his way to her he lowered himself to the ground, pulling her into his embrace. Without hesitation her tiny arms wrapped around his neck as her whimpers fell silently, the tears soaking his shirt.

"Hush now." He said soothingly, the fostering sound otherworldly, "I've got you. I won't let anyone harm you, dear."

Was he lying? If it came to the crossroad where he had to choose his path or hers, who would it be? Would he fight her battles for her or let her become such a monstrosity as Lisa Trevor had before she was laid to rest? Either way, right now in his warming embrace she was safe, and that's all that mattered.

* * *

**  
September 29, 2006 5:45 PM  
Umbrella Facility, Europe.**

Dressed in nothing less than elegance; the shallow woman strutted into the abandoned facility as if she owned the place. With French manicured nails she placed her Chanel sunglasses on top of her head, her high heels echoing through the corridor of the deserted facility.

Wesker who had claimed the old surveillance room as his makeshift home was watching two woman enter the facility. It didn't take a brain to know the overly stunning figure was that of, Excella Gionne. A smile that had become more so accustomed to his face here recently had returned with fulfillment.  
He had played her all too well, and she was his ticket to succession.

Before coming in full contact with the woman, Wesker sent his double agent on a mission to dig up anything and everything on Excella. Ada of course reported back to him with all things Ms. Gionne and not one thing seemed out of place; much like her hair.

Who was she exactly? She was all that he needed to make his envision of his new world possible. She had wits, keen intellect, and stamina when it came to all things business. That and the billion dollar Pharmaceutical Company she worked for made her an excellent asset to his plan.

With all that being said, Wesker still found her rather vexatious. She wasn't his type and after a night of endless sex he always came out highly dissatisfied. Not that it honestly mattered, he was acting the part which she made oh so easy, and in the end of this he would be satisfied, though in a different sense.

Finally catching a glimpse of the other woman he paused the frame, her profile vaguely familiar. Compared to Excella, who was overly dressed, the woman looked tediously dull. She was a lot shorter, then again standing next to someone wearing six inch heels would do that to a person's visual appearance.

Feeling that there was nothing more to see, he turned around uninterested knowing that the explanation was simple. She was more than likely Excella's, one of many, assistants that he would have seen during one of their conference calls, and even if he wanted to ponder on something so unnecessary he would have been cut short; a beeping began to ring from the speakers as the monitor flashed to another camera, Jill's.

"Shit." He muttered, even to him his own voice sounded out of place.

A vibrating heat wave, a flash, the shattering sound of glass.  
Wesker was at Jill's side; without taking one breath of air.

Her body slammed harshly against the padded operation table. Her blue eyes turning white as they rolled back in her head; like a demon possessing her body. She was seizing into deaths gate right before his eyes.

Jill's teeth clashed against one another, as if she was trying to bite down on something. The way her neck was twisting could have easily paralyzed her from the face down. She was healing but even so he knew her bones weren't ready to be mobilized in such a manner. There was nothing he could think to do but strap her down. Carefully placing a strap over her head he stuck the Velcro into place.

Lucky for him it worked, her head remained on the table. Continuing to strap the rest of her restless limbs down he looked back at her as heard a crunching sound, like cutting into a watermelon, resonate from her mouth. A river of blood flowed from its wake proving to him that she had bit down on her tongue.

"Shit!" His voice was now an inadequate yell of frustration.  
What the fuck was he doing? Why didn't he have full control over this situation?

His thoughts swarmed as he grabbed her chart, checking over everything once again; like he had the past month. Her vitals were excellent, she was healing impeccably well for a human, and she had shown no sign of a fever. The fact that she was having a seizure didn't add up.

Excella pulled her master access card, which Wesker had mailed her prior too, out of her clutch. She then looked over to her _slave_ quirking a perfectly sculpted brow. Her snobby look in action, as if the other woman was livestock.

"Now, I will tell you once. Be on your best behavior, you know the rules." Her accent was beautiful and though she was speaking fluent English it sounded as though she was speaking her native tongue.

She knew Excella's bark was worse than her bite but still yet she had no fire left in her to argue with the idiot trusting Wesker. She nodded as they turned into the area where the door should have would been. It was destroyed, tiny shards of glass laid everywhere, the metal thrown off its hinges.  
_What could have done this?_

Excella showed know concern, obviously not aware of what horror could do such a thing, as she willfully allowed Excella to pull her into the noisy area where the true definition of 'sensory overload' was spot on. A body was spewing vomit on the operation table, making Excella's face snarl with utter disgust. Another body, Wesker, was breezing around the room, literally, and every time he passed a gush of wind blew through her long knotted hair, though not one hair moved from Excella's overly hair sprayed bun.  
_Never trust a bitch who feels the need to wear that much hairspray._

Constant beeping, fluorescent blinding lights, the heart monitor showing a weak response as her BP dropped. She couldn't just allow the Jane Doe to die could she? No. It wasn't in her nature. She acted on her instincts not caring about the consequences.

Looking down at the unnoticeable woman she couldn't help but gawk at such wounds. It felt as though she was a kid in the candy store. When she was still in training she loved scrubbing in on cases such as this one, there was always something new for her to learn and not to mention the experience was to die for. This was indeed a trauma case and there was no doubt in her mind that this woman needed to be in an intensive care unit.

The question was, if Excella's information was correct and this woman had been here with Wesker for a month then how the hell was she still alive?  
_Save it for a rainy day._

Taking Jill's pulse she noticed her jerky inaudible gasps for breath. Her chest no longer showing visible movement of her lungs working. Even though she had been out of the medical field for quite some time she still knew what she needed to do.

"I need a gauged needle and something that can suction! STAT!" She commanded at the moving figure fully aware that it was the one and only bastard, Albert Wesker.

Wesker stopped and turned to the younger woman shouting demands his way. He knew that voice and it hadn't aged a day since Raccoon. She was no stranger after all.

"Don't just stand there! NOW! Wesker! If you don't hurry she will die!" Her voice was stern, full of wisdom. A backbone she hadn't shown when he had met her as a teenager.

Any other day Wesker would have pulled her up by her hair and threw her across the room for talking down to him in such a manner. Today, was her lucky day; he was feeling rather generous. And was completely ignoring the fact that he felt insured by her presence. Knowing that Jill was in good hands would place his mind at ease.

_Let her die. _He ignored the crying plea that was his alter-ego and went in search.

Excella watched dumbfounded by the two enemies working together to save a nobodies life. Wesker had never shown any emotion toward her in that way. Hell, even during intercourse he was distant. Never showing any emotions to the way he felt or how _she _made him feel. This man dancing around in front of her for this woman was an outsider.

A ping of jealousy rose in her chest at the thought of him feeling something for that ugly swelled plump of a bitch. All she wanted to do was put the fish out of water in a grinder and watch as she turned into what she was, nothing.

Excella would never describe herself as "self-conscious" but when it came down to her stunningly handsome Albert she was that exactly. Who was she kidding? What was so special about the girl squirting body fluids out of her mouth like a fountain? Absolutely nothing.

If she had her way with him, which of course she knew she would, eventually. She would give it a year tops until they would be wed in a luxurious manner, and throughout their planned succession they would have beautiful children for their nanny's to raise. Excella would be damned if she let the tramp get in the way of her future. If it truly came to that point, she would kill her.

Sifting swiftly through the drawers and cabinets Wesker had successfully scavenged all that was requested. Dropping them on the surgical tray, the woman jumped surprised by his sudden movement. Not even a second passed and she was back in her professional state of mind. Grabbing the needle she cut open the gown that was strapped loosely around the woman's back. Wesker didn't turn when Jill's naked chest was revealed, nor did he show any act of interest, right now all he cared about deep down was saving her life; his revenge on Chris the very last.

Placing her hand on Jill's swollen collar bone she measured with her hands where to place the needle. She could only pray that it would work, if not she was sure Wesker wouldn't hesitate to snap her neck, killing her dead where she stood.

Taking a deep sure breath.  
_Here goes nothing._  
1...2...Jabbing the needle straight into her chest, a pop sounded, "Suction!"

Wesker who had already had it in his hand placed it in front of the woman's, which was clawing urgently in the air for the object. Taking it she placed the suction on the end of the needle and squeezed. Very carefully she released her hand enough to suction the liquid infection out of the sack surrounding her lungs. As she did a cloudy, pink, purulent fluid splattered everywhere; which proved once again that she was a genius, and would not being dying today.

Taking in a big gulp of air, Jill sprang to life. Frightened by the reoccurring nightmare her head tried to shoot up from where it laid only to be held down. Her wide bloodshot eyes met the younger woman's uncanny grey eyes; and that's when she knew Rebecca Chambers had saved her life once again. **  
**


	12. Chapter Eleven: Lacrimosa

**So! This is where the fun begins and I go on to add my own tiny twists here and there. Not to worry though I won't fall to far from the RE5 plot. ;) Also this chapter does contain a tiny amount of lemon, prepare yourselves! Thank you so much for the follows/reviews/favs! :D **

* * *

**June 18, 1979 1:37 AM  
Umbrella Research Center, Raccoon City.**

_Spencer sat comfortably, his feet propped up on his leather foot rest. Listening as soothing rain trickled down the window, blinding his sight to look upon the night sky. The moons eliminating glow reflected off the stained glass; sending colors and whimsical patterns across his wrinkling face. He found the spirited pitter-patter rather soothing, and as he took another puff of his pipe he reflected back to the successful day he had._

Albert was one of Spencer's few victorious experiments. He and the others of his kind were brought into this world by science and Spencer's greedy ambitions for world damnation.

After being injected with the, in works, Prototype Virus, the Wesker children would serve his purpose in a whole new world based on principle, respect, authority, and obedience. And after correcting the virus which the girl held in her veins, he would drain every drop of her blood then inject it into himself; making him their King.

If his plan was effective, for once world peace would carry a true meaning. There would be no violence, no crime, no words out of tone, or voices raised unless he commanded it so. The world needed correcting, to be cleansed of impurity, and he was all but anxious to do what had to be done.

Much like the birthing of Project W, Sera Eames was brought into the world the exact same; surrogacy. Spencer had handpicked both her mother, who was a virus carrier herself, and father, who sported a phenomenal IQ of 350, making, if Spencer's theories were precise, the key to all his stored away motives.

Due to the biological mother's body being too unstable to carry a child another woman was brought into act. Vivia Eames, a bright young scientist who was eager to be a part in such a glorious act of life, signed a contract agreeing to carry the embryo to full term. Then after, portray the motherly roll until use of the child was invalid.

The contract stated that Vivia could not leave Raccoon, under any circumstance, with the child in arms. She was to live in an assigned suburban house, which was implanted with security cameras in every corner except her quarters, _**so she thought**__. She could not deny any request for experimentation the child would be placed under. With that being said, she would come when told or suffer severe consequences. Finically, Spencer would pay for anything both child and mother needed, alongside giving her weekly pay for her cooperation.  
__**One hell of a deal.**_

_A stove fired breeze made its way into the chilled room as the cherry oak doors to his office opened and closed._

A wicked unearthly grin spread across Spencer's face already knowing who the late night visitor would be. Spinning his chair around, a look of annoyance planted on his face as he stared up at his favorite puppet.

"I haven't requested your presence." Spencer said, placing his hands over his abdomen as he leaned back, "I'm guessing you having something of some importance to tell me?"

"I do." His voice was off balance, alarmingly on edge.

"And? Out with it, boy! I haven't got all night!" Spencer thundered.

Wesker's hatred did not fall on blind eyes. Spencer knew very well just what he was doing, and knew exactly the right strings to pull to make the young man tick.

"My concerns are of the girl and what you plan on doing with her?" He responded coyly, not giving into Spencer's verbal punches.

A baleful cackle sprang from the man, "That's nothing you need to be aware of."

Wesker tossed the tempting urge to throw a fist across the desk. He wanted to beat the man to a senseless, gauge his eyes out with his own fingers as he felt the life drain from his body; shaking feverishly into the gates of hell. Instead he retorted with another question, "Why send five infantile researchers to do my job?"

Spencer sat up infuriated by Wesker's nerve to speak down to him. His eyes narrowed, "Your job? Albert, do you need me to remind you of who is in charge?"

Wesker knew he was stepping on dangerous territory and he was fully aware of what Spencer could do to him. Somehow knowing that information only made Wesker want to test Spencer's patience more-so than before.

Taking a seat in one of the chairs positioned in front of Spencer's desk Wesker removed his sunglasses to meet eye to eye with his superior, preparing the false information to fall from his tongue.

"Sir," Wesker threw the word out there like a freshly sharpened razor blade, "I mean no disrespect. Though I thought you should be aware that if we place the child under another trial of T her body will go into shock. One by one her organs will fail then she will die, alongside her a year's amount of research."

Spencer cocked a grey brow, "And you know this how?"

"Birkin hasn't mastered the dosage of the substances placed within T." Wesker didn't have to lie on that one, he was telling the truth, "Every time Sera is injected with the virus her body over doses on adrenaline. Usually she can recover within the hour though as of recently it's been taking her several hours to regain consciousness."

"Sera? Since when do you call 6277 by its name?" Spencer's smile was cloaked, a straight line plastered upon his lips.

It never dawned on Wesker. Her name just fell out of his mouth freely without hesitation. He had just broken code #177, it was one of the first things you learn when stepping into the labs. Never grow attached.

Finding a way to cover his tracks Wesker stayed completely unsullied on the outside, "When the specimen has supreme intellect there are certain bridges you must cross to gain their trust."

The statement was far-fetched. He knew just as well as Spencer that when it came to collecting data no scientist should care whether or not the subject showed trust as long as they got the desired information captivated within.

Spencer, who was aware of the relationship, nodded, agreeing that it was an adequate explanation.

Moving on Spencer continued, "If the child cannot be injected with T then I suggest we lay her to rest, shall we?"

Wesker's rock hard "I don't give a shit" look slammed into a brick wall. He was now finding himself shaking with rage. How dare he threaten her! How dare he command him to do such an inhumane act! He tried to take sovereignty over his feelings not wanting Spencer to see how he truly felt for the girl.

His clenched jaw released as he responded to the comment, "I don't believe that will be a necessary action, sir."

"Very well." Spencer quickly shifted the tide, confusing Wesker.

Was that a test? Did Spencer know something he didn't?

"I expect a full report on 6277's achievements and progress by morning."

"Yes Sir." Wesker forced, only out of respect. Grabbing his sunglasses as he stood up and walked to the door.

Reaching for the handle he stopped mid-action as Spencer began to speak, "The tissue and blood samples will be required as well."

Taking a deep breath Wesker said nothing in response as he stepped out into the hallway; a new development of vengeance against the man boiling to a peak. 

* * *

**September 29, 2006 7:00 PM  
Umbrella Facility, Europe.**

Her salted flesh was pressed up against his as she idly drew swirls of idolized adoration on his bare chest in attempt to capture his surveillance; wanting him to wrap the arms planted firmly behind his head upon her hips.

His body remained rigid as he paid no attention to Excella who was now pecking butterfly kisses along his jaw line. Wesker's mind was elsewhere isolating himself from her warm touch. His eyes stared into space, his body senselessly immune to her sexual gestures.

_Sera._  
Nearly three decades had passed and not one thought of her had crossed his mind. After their departure Wesker forced himself to forget her and by doing so became the ruthless man he was destined to be from the start.

After taking the prototype virus all human memories were blurred, hazed over in exposed black and white. And now as the virus continued to drain from his physique the filtered recollection stood out avidly bright; still a fog levitated over the remembrance of her face.

Could Spencer have organized all that he had to do with the girl? It seemed to be a logical explanation for the diverse bond they shared.

Excella caught sense of his more than usual distancing toward her. Defeated she sighed, removing her tan naked figure from his as she covered herself in a stiff sheet. Wesker, who would later regroup himself of his thoughts, realized her movements and brought himself back down to planet earth. Swiftly he caught her hand; knowing that the woman's blood pressure had raised with intolerable anger toward him.

He had just savagely earned her heart, acting with such cruelty to her this early in would cause issues farther down the path he had so faultlessly mapped out. Like it or not if he was to gain all that he needed from her then he had no choice but to once again give into his seductive course of nature.

Excella didn't dare move from his vigorous clench. Beaming over at a teasingly stripped Wesker, her light green eyes glistened with infatuation.  
_He actually cares._

"Where are you going?" He questioned her, his voice adding that perfect effect of tenderness that would make any hopeless romantic swoon.

Feeling her heart race rapidly in her chest toward his soft tone she fully turned around to look upon his godliness. His body structured by Aphrodite herself, and not to mention those eyes which made his angel kissed features devilishly appealing.

She didn't answer as he pulled her back down into him. His face hungry, his force animalistic as he tore the sheet one handily from her body, revealing her toned torso. His eyes stared in imitated wonderment as though he was taken hold by such a vision; aroused her knees trembled in response to his burning gaze.

Feverishly he placed his hands behind her head, her loose dark hair getting tangled in his fingertips as his lips devoured hers. The sweet taste of cinnamon surfacing upon his tongue as she moaned with a burning passion, allowing her head to drop back as he trailed compassionate kisses down her neck; variously biting at her delicately flushed skin.

Without a doubt in his mind he knew he would have her screaming his name in ecstasy, and his little act of giving her no attention would be lost along what remained of her self-worth. She was impatient, eager for his touch in a lethal way; making it all the more simple for Wesker to take full advantage of her.

Oxytocin liberated throughout her body, ravishing through her veins as a strong emotional chain linked; giving her unrevealed feelings for the man taking her wholly.

Excella was never the prey, always the predator; treating men as if they were only created for her sexual use. Toying with one after the other, like she had seen her father do to her mother. Leaving this as a singular experience; one that Excella had never dreamed of tasting before, and one she would surely never forget.

Feeling herself slip into the exotic light, she let go, her heart falling fully into the clutches of a demon; selling her soul to the devil.

* * *

**September 29, 2006 7:00 PM  
Umbrella Facility, Europe.**

Soap foamed as she scrubbed the leftover germs off her hands, the burning water against her cool skin refreshing. Regretfully she turned off the water and dried off her hands on her lab coat as she stared into the spotless now room, the only other person present was the Jane Doe who had found slumber once again.

Rebecca walked over to Jill's steadily breathing, covered and clean, body. Placing her hand over Jill's forehead she smiled down upon her, her eyes feeling with hesitant moistness of remorse for the poor woman; she could only imagine how Wesker had caused such injuries.

"Don't you worry, okay? I will have you fixed and as good as new in no time. Just do me a favor and hang in there, will ya?" Rebecca cooed soothingly, still completely unaware that it was the woman that made her the fearless soldier she was.

By the time Rebecca was recruited the S.T.A.R.S. were already split into groups of two; the Alphas, and Bravos. Even so, being the second girl to join the team Enrico had convinced Wesker into allowing Jill help train a young Ms. Chamber into the squad.

With Rebecca being the Chemicals Expert, Jill had taught her everything about weapons, how to diffuse a bomb, and was even one of the few members who was able to pick up on lock picking. Of course she wasn't as good as Jill, though still she knew it was something to be proud of. Within the three weeks they both became rather close, almost sisterly in a sense; until their departure from Raccoon that is.

Wiping the tears she laughed at herself for being dramatic. Rebecca knew that she was slowly but surely losing her wits. After all how rational could a person stay after being captured and held against their will until they made a severely unforgivable decision to destroy humanity?

She should have listened to her former STARS teammates who warned her, before going their separate ways, to keep her nose clean of anything and everything bioterrism. Even if she hadn't meant to do harm they knew someone would make her, and here she was eight years later doing research for the enemies. Typical.

Sitting down on the stool beside Jill she replayed the conversation of which she and Excella had about Jane Doe before their arrival. It wasn't all that much and by the look on Excella's face when they made their way into the lab she wasn't made aware of the fact that the 'subject' was a woman.  
_Bet she was thrilled by the reveal._

Excella had allowed her to glimpse at the file Wesker had emailed, and by what she read of Wesker's analysis she figured that he was dealing with someone who was sickened by a slight case of the flu. After seeing the body she knew that for sure wasn't the case.  
_The flu doesn't beat you black and blue, now does it?  
_  
Laying on her right, out of the corner of her eye, a folder whispered her name. Curiously she turned her head, debating on whether or not to peak into Wesker's private notes, though they were probably just notes containing information on Jane Doe; of whom she was more than interested in.  
_What the hell, you're going to die soon anyway._

Giving into her inquisitive scientist Rebecca quickly picked it up. It was a dirty off-white color, a faded ink codename written in the center reading, "Subject 6277".

Paranoid she looked up from the folder and scoped out her surroundings, her ears listening for anything that could be Wesker or Excella. Hearing nothing but Jill's breathing and heart monitor she knew the coast was clear and gave herself a mental nudge to dive deep into the knowledge of mystery.

Laying the folder on her lap, she placed the medical table in front of her which would hopefully block the view of her spying if either entered, and then opened it up.

Because she was afraid of tearing the pages she left them in the pouch, carefully flipping them upward so she could read through the notebook pages, which all strangely dated back to the late 70's. Confused she shortly realized that this wasn't a file on the woman at all, but possibly Wesker's? And if that was the case she had hit the jackpot, more literal than you would believe.

**_February 3, 1979  
Testing Day 106 – B Virus_**_  
Prior to being injected with B Type 100011.1, Subject 6277 shows tremendous strength and well being.  
3 minuet blood sample showed an increase in adrenaline levels.  
10 minuet blood sample showed deprivation of potassium and iron. Energy decreased._  
20 minuet's and Subject is fatigued, barely able to keep eyes open and in focus.  
_Pupils dilated 20% their average size.  
25 minuet's later and subject has fallen into a deep sleep.  
45 minuet's subject has woken up. Alert and responsive.  
50 minuet blood sample shows Subject's body fully restored and back to normal functions._

The writing was neatly done and organized, though without information to go on Rebecca had no understanding what 'experimentation' they were placing this so called subject under. She continued on skipping to the very last page.

**_July 17, 1979  
Testing Day 1 – T Gen. 1 _**_  
Prior to being injected with T 1.0 subject is showing loss of appetite, severe case of sleep apnea, muscle fatigue, and shortness of breath.  
10 minuet blood sample shows that plasma is at a deadly level, red blood cells have decreased as have white. Body still physically and visibly functioning._  
_20 minute's no sign of brain activity.  
30 minute's declared dead.  
60 minute's subject alive w/o resuscitation, no sign of virus remains in blood stream._

Rebecca felt her jaw physically drop, her eyes wide, an uneasy feeling rumbling in her stomach as she remembered the horrors of Raccoon. Was this the first strain of the T virus that engulfed the city in flames? And if so, being generation one would mean the virus was more than deadly, possibly even resulting in death without being incarnated again. Was Wesker this subject? Could his blood be an antidote of some sort?

"Well, look what we have here." Rebecca froze red handed. Her limbs unable to function thanks to Wesker's callous voice directly spoken into her ear.

"What nothing to say?" he taunted, moving away to be face to face with her. His voice more zealous than anything else; as if he wanted to make conversation with her.

Rebecca met his gaze seeing his snake like eyes for the first time. Surprising him she didn't look at him any differently like the other STARS members had when they came into contact with his new and improved model.

It was nothing out of the ordinary for her, in fact it was in her nature as a scientist to be rather fascinated by him. Out of his knowledge, she knew all about his little 'transition' and the prototype virus which had risen him from the dead. This only brought her cold hard facts to her beliefs and studies on him.  
_Act like a monster, look like a monster. _

A movement like the light had bent, lightning flexed before her eyes and then Wesker was on the other side of Jill, his hard gaze still placed on Rebecca who kept still. She couldn't read his face, something that had always been present with him. And was that a grin beaming upon his lips?

His attempts to scare the younger woman grew pointless; she was unshakeable which only brought him boredom. Shifting his eyes he looked down at Jill as if he cared about her well being…or did he? Either way Rebecca was unaware.  
_Maybe there wasn't a particular reason he wanted her alive? Maybe she was an old flame?_

Wanting an honest answer Wesker spoke louder than her thoughts, "How much do you know about me?"

Rebecca stood stiffly, unable to make head or tails if the question was a trick or not. Carefully she chose her words wisely, "I guess that depends on what you want me to know."

Softly, as if she were a china doll, Wesker caressed Jill's swollen profile. Rebecca noticed the small sense of humanity but said nothing already aware of what was happening to him.

Wesker shifted upward their glimpses falling passed one another his oddly strained; the reddened rim consuming his amber irises.

Wesker's head began to pound, tightening as the countdown of a bomb began to tick. He felt the rush of several emotions, all with one thing in common; the desire to kill. Tensing his jaw, he felt the explosive detonate. His veins were gasoline, the virus a raging fire.

This battle for dominance was destroying him, and he wanted more than anything to let the virus consume him fully. Clawing at the control panel of his mind he sped off to the cabinet, Rebecca puzzled as to what she had just witnessed.

"I remember you quite well, Ms. Chambers. And I don't recall you having such a strong personality." He managed to get out as he fetched a glass and bottle of bourbon.

She wasn't sure whether or not to take that as a positive or negative comment. Plain and simple, she ignored his comment, rejoining with a question, "Who's the woman?"

Wesker poured the liquid into the glass; promptly taking a gulp as to dull the dagger of his inner tyrant. Allowing the bitter heated taste to drain down his throat, he pondered on whether or not to reveal Jill's identity.

Truth be told he needed Rebecca to keep Jill alive. Because he knew that if they hadn't shown up out of the blue this morning that he would be disposing of another corpse. Wesker only knew so much, and though would never admit it out loud, doctoring wasn't his expertise.

Coming to the conclusion he knew giving up Jill's identity to Rebecca would keep her safe for the time being. And surely if he persuaded her nicely, giving into her deepest desires, Excella would loan her 'slave' to him.

Also, if correct about Rebecca, Wesker could find use of her for his problem as well. If anyone was to outsmart William Birkin and figure out the virus captivating his body it was her. Wesker knew intelligence when he saw it, and the girl had always been beyond extent.

"You mean to tell me you don't recognize her?" He responded, playing with her mind for the hell of it.  
What more was there to do after all?

Rebecca glanced down at the massively swelled human, her eyes narrowing, "Should I?"

"You should."

Rebecca was growing tiresome of Wesker's games and it was written all over her face.  
She was tired and restless. Excella hadn't allowed her to sleep for days and now she had to be tortured by this asshole?

"Here's a hint." He said, misting himself where he had stood before, "She taught you everything you know about weaponry. In fact, I do believe the two of you were rather close at one point in time."

Rebecca's face seized in disbelief. Her bottom lip quivering, goose bumps plastering their way onto her pale flesh. And if Wesker hadn't known any better he would have mistaken her for the eighteen year old he had known so long ago.

Rebecca couldn't wrap her mind around it. How was that Jill? How was she involved in this mess? It was impossible. Jill was human, her body would have never withstood such damage. The only explanation was that he was lying; that and betrayal seemed to be his signature traits.

She blinked fiercely to make the tears stray, refusing to show him any weakness.

"You're a lying bastard!" Her mouth was tightly drawn, her teeth scrapping against one another as she spit the fireball of anger she held within.

Wesker bit his tongue, gargling down the vile of words that sought release. Rebecca watched as his hand tightened around the glass he was holding, pressure building within the elements until they found their breaking point.

A cracking of glass shattering, his hard breaths, the tiny crystals which spun midair followed by the crunching sound of Wesker opening his uncovered palm. Rebecca jumped in fear but knew there was no sense to run, Wesker could kill her with one blowing force. Like dealing with a snake it was better to immobilize herself than takeoff and risk provoking him further.

She counted backwards from one hundred trying her best to steady her heart rate and uneasy breaths.

He despised the insolent brat. He wanted to kill her; rip off her skin and reveal the muscle underneath. Then while making sure she was still alive he would tear out her heart before her eyes, something a part of him lusted after since watching Spencer crumble under his grasp on such a fragile organ.

Swallowing hard, his throat dry. Wesker stood up straightening out his black business suit, which Excella insisted for him to wear, his hand pouring blood; darker than the average shade. Walking away from the woman he only shifted his head not fully turning it, "I suggest you keep a careful watch over Ms. Valentine during my absence if you want to keep that heart of yours beating in your chest."

With that the man found it best to walk out of the door-less laboratory before he killed the only chance he had to stabilize Jill and his virus. Leaving Rebecca disturbingly petrified.

Rebecca's rapid pulse shouting in her ears, as her body became limp. All she wanted was to be home and in her cozy bed, but she knew now that there was no way in hell Wesker would free her from Excella's forceful grasp. Giving up she laid her head down carefully beside Jill as she wept painfully into the mattress.

Aware of all her surroundings Jill had been awake throughout the whole conversation. She didn't need eyes to know that both Wesker and Rebecca knew things on one another, nor did it cloud the frail whimpers of the younger ex-comrade's cries of isolation from the world.

Knowing she only had another few moments of consciousness before another dose of Morphine was pumped through her IV, she placed all her strength into moving her hand. The ligaments and stitched skin fondled one another. Ignoring the slight twinge of torment, her hand abandoned the rough fabric as it found its way into live skin.

A human touch was all it took for Rebecca's tears to come to an immediate halt. Looking up in disbelief to see Jill's hand in her own. Snuffing her nose, Rebecca caressed attentively at the mutilated hand. Knowing that without a doubt together there was still hope they could escape the monstrous couple.

"I'm here, Jill. Just rest." Rebecca's soft reassuring voice echoed in Jill's ears, as if they were sitting in an empty cave. Jill attempted but couldn't fight the urge swelling upon her and did exactly what she was told; giving in as the drug administrated itself becoming one with her veins once again.


	13. Chapter Twelve: No Light

**This chapter is part one of Rebecca's past leading up to why she's in the hands of Excella, and Chris's present battles with himself. Still, I hope you all enjoy :)  
Thank you all so very much for the favs/follows/&reviews! They are highly appreciated! :D  
Ps, some major AU will be appearing within the next couple chapters ;D**

* * *

_Before she could blink seven years had slipped through her fingertips. Not letting the past consume her, Rebecca Chambers, now twenty-five, led an anything but adventurous life._

It had been half a decade since she had spoken to her old team mates or even considered analyzing the many viruses Umbrella had been creating. Being only eighteen when all hell broke loose the only way she could cope with the tragedy was to put it all behind her; even something she loved more than life itself, chemistry.

After Utah she threw in her badge; mentally anyway, seeing as how the RPD building had been blown into non-existence. Enough was enough, and though she wished she could have followed in their footsteps, those who stood and fought for innocents worldwide, she couldn't bring herself to do it.

Instead, Rebecca found herself calling Seattle, Washington her new home. She adored everything about it from its cool moist winters to its relatively dry, yet warm, summers; though she might have enjoyed the fact that her apartment was in walking distance from her place of work, a bit more.

Point was she had settled down. She had finally met the man of her dreams, who had just recently popped the big question, and was in the middle of moving in with her. Then after committing herself to her future, Rebecca decided to go back in for another round of college. Graduating with flying colors from Weston University's Medical Program, she was welcomed, with open arms, into a residency program. Learning all she needed to know about becoming a Trauma Surgeon; giving it her all, Rebecca was declared an attendee one year earlier than her fellow residents.

Although she hadn't found herself dealing with chemicals much, Rebecca found serenity in what she had become. She saved lives daily, and not only that but the hospital was receiving money from an anonymous source for a clinical trial on a cure for cancer.

Of course, with Rebecca's background she was appointed to be the head researcher on the project, which so far had an extremely high success rate, and in some way it allowed her inner scientist take a deep breath of clarity.

It had all fallen into place for her, something she would have never saw for herself after the biohazard. She was living the perfect life that all of her ex-comrades desired but gave up in return to save the world, though it hung like a noose right before their eyes; a delicious forbidden fruit of life itself.

One day, was all it took for a ghost from her past to appear like a curse. Ripping her exhaling lungs from her chest, it tore all she held dearest away from her reach; leaving a gaping hole where her heart used to reside.

* * *

__**March 23, 2005 9:00 PM  
Seattle, Washington US**

_Her skin burned as the mellow droplets brushed against her freckled skin. Forming steam it twined its grip around the fogged glass, condensation slowly gliding its way down to the tiles. It was mentally curative to let her mind wonder absently, a stress relief; which the last forty-two hours had been severely._

Being head trauma surgeon meant Rebecca had a lot on her plate; not to mention an unexpected incident in her personal life. There had been a fifty-car pile-up on interstate 5, and with the hospital having the highest ranking ICU department, all victims, depending on how lethal their injuries were, were either flown in or escorted by ambulance.

Not only was she cleansing her body, she was scrubbing her soul of the days seen catastrophe. Just because she had saved more lives than she could count on two hands didn't make the deaths any easier. One downside to the job, but she would more than happily take them any day over having to adapt to another apocalyptic situation.

Turning the nobs to the shower the water terminated into careless drips, her mind a loaded flood gate over flowing with apprehensiveness. She released an anxious breath as she stepped out of the shower. Stepping onto the floor mat she wrapped a towel around her nude figure.

Turning off the light to the stuffy bathroom, she made her way into her room; sitting down on her comfortable mattress. A light and heady smell, sweet with a citrus tang, drove into her nostrils as she ejected lotion into her palms. Rubbing it into her petal soft skin; her eyes not prying from the envelope branding itself within her core.

Saliva caught in her throat as her heart kicked madly at her chest cavity; the feeling of paper against her clammy palms unsettling as she tore into the seal. Closing her eyes she unfolded the paper, taking a brittle breath, knowing that now was as good as ever to find out her results, she opened them.

Her body an overly emotional vortex; a feeling as though her heart was being suctioned into a black hole as her eyes fell numbingly on the one word, 'positive'.

Her front door opened and as it did so Rebecca, who was startled, jumped up, slamming the paper into her nightstand as a handsome face appeared at the entryway. His smile seizing as he saw a look of alienated dismay upon her soaked features. Wasting no time he was by her side, pulling her into an embrace as she wrapped her arms around his chest.

"Becca, what's wrong?" His voice full of worried support.

She knew she couldn't tell him the truth; they had discussed this millions of times, and though it was uncertain how she felt about it, he had once made it crystal clear that it was far from what he wanted. Knowing this she swallowed her tongue, and instead looked into his green eyes as she forced a smile, shaking her head, "Just a rough day."

"I know, I know." He mumbled gently into her scalp as he placed kisses upon it.

She couldn't describe the feeling that was submerging from her brain, it was one of a kind. Fear? Anger toward him for putting her in this position? Possibly. She guessed it could naturally be a bit of both.

Not in any mood for human affection, especially his, she carefully pried herself out of his all too loving clasp around her. She needed time to let the reality of her situation sink in, and to do that she knew she needed time to herself.

Standing up she ignored his gaze as she fumbled around her room looking for exercise gear; which she had found rather fortunately. Dropping her towel, his arms were wrapped around her in a hot second. His hands swiftly moved her long hair to one side as he placed fluttered kisses on her neck; chill bumps spread down her long legs.

Repentantly turning around to face him, denying him for a second time, "Not tonight."

Understanding, yet frustrated, he nodded, "It's late. Don't you at least want to sleep while you can?"

_Shaking her head again she placed the clothes over her bare body, bending down she slipped on her running shoes, "I need fresh air."_

"I will go-"

"Aid." She said biting at her lip, trying to hold in all the welling agitation that she was feeling towards him, "Please."

They had been together three years, practically sewn at the hip. She loved him because he got who she was more than anyone else. He listened and understood all the treachery she had been placed under at such a young age that took a tiny shard of the human she used to be.

He loved her not for her money, but for her strength, wisdom, and most importantly that beautifully natured heart that saved lives on a day to day basis. So, if she needed time to herself then he knew that it was something they could talk about only when she was ready. He could be patient, and he would.

His head gently pulled her hair as he leaned into place a kiss on her forehead, "I'll be here when you get back, sound good?"

_Hesitantly she allowed a diminutive smile to dimple her cheeks, "Sounds great."_

Pacing her way out of his endearment, she made her way to the door; grabbing her iPhone, pager (in case of an emergency), and keys. Purposely ignoring his last sentence she opened the door and closed it behind her; already finding relief outside his presence. 

* * *

__**February 20, 2007 12:09AM  
Phoenix, Arizona US**

Energetic neon lights shined through the dimly lit bar; a plume of dark currents twirled upward from his lit cigarette. Chris had found himself in this situation regularly unable to deal with his contrite thoughts.

At times he would find himself pondering on what Jill must have thought of this version of him. Every day he used to wake up feeling as though he still had a purpose in the world, to serve, to protect, now that all felt like an obscure dream.

His once perfect routine had been replaced by lush consumed habits. Cycling the previous day's events he would crawl out of bed in the late afternoon; still barely functional from the night before. He would fuel himself awake with coffee then after head to the gym, working out until closing time. Straight from there he would drive to a bar down the road from his house; drinking until his name was irrelevant and every woman he met looked damn well attractive enough to take home.

Chris held his head down, sulking over what his life had become without her. Looking back on his past he felt as though he had every right to drink himself stupid until he saw fit, or until it destroyed all that remained of him.

He drank one to remember, and then another to forget.

Raising his hand, the aged owner of the bar, who already knew what Chris wanted grabbed a bottle of Scotch, placing it in front of him. Chris stared at it numbly, befuddled as to why he was just handed a full bottle of liquor.

The elder owner, Rich, who was wiping down the wooden countertop saw the warranted expression on Chris's face and gave him an explanation, "You drink more than that in one night, kid. Consider that me doing you and I both a great service."

Rubbing his eyes Chris held up his head to look at the man, wearied he spoke, "What do you mean?"

Finishing off the counter, Rich turned his back to clean the built up dishes by the sink, "Boy, you drink more than that in one night and though it's my job, I would rather not be breathing down the back of your neck pouring you drink after drink."

The realization of his reality set into motion, the man's words proving to Chris that he had become a failure. How could he drink more than a whole bottle a night? There wasn't an excuse for his actions. Not a single one. And if Jill were looking down at him right now she would be repulsed by his selfishness.

How had he allowed himself to become such a waste of space? Making a choice for his best he slid the bottle back toward Rich, who looked more than pleased with the younger man's action.

Chris knew he was talented and damn near one of the best operatives the BSAA had. Why sit here and get wasted when there was nothing holding him back from doing his job? There wasn't one thing that could hold him back now, and with Jill gone there would be nothing left to lose. He could avenge her death. And he knew that she could rest peacefully knowing he would finish what they promised one another they'd do together; put an end to bioterrism.

Putting out his cigarette he stood up. Collecting his jacket he placed the thick army green material around him. Digging out one last, more than generous, tip he placed it on the counter top; waving goodbye to the man who had been his only companion for the past three months.__

His final decision was made. He would save the world for her.

* * *

**March 24, 2005 9:00 PM  
Seattle, Washington US**_  
__**  
**__There was something about the colors of the night that made Rebecca realize she was just a speck of sand in the universe. A city illuminated with the hopes and dreams of carefree strangers, as time ticked, a never-ending cycle of stars aligning with one another; a full moon basking her in purity._

In this moment nothing mattered to her. As her lungs inflated and deflated, her legs sprinted as fast as they could possibly take her as everything seized to exist. No worries, her brain was set free.

**7: 45 AM**

_As the sky awakened the earth, a fire burned lake reflected the vibrant gold rays of a sunrise as she sat on the docks. Her bare feet dipped into the fresh chilled water, basking in the sun as it found its way to her._

Concluding her damnable night Rebecca had decided that everything would be just fine. She was a fool with dreams, and to join her work ambitions, she would also do everything in her power to be the mother this human deserved.

She was petrified, only because she was a victim to the harshness of what the world around had to offer. Why bring a child into a world that's falling apart by the seams, not knowing what could happen?

Because she could. Because she knew without a doubt that she could protect this tiny human growing in her womb. She had survived before, and she would do it again. Nothing could sway her made up mind. With or without Aidan she would bring this miracle into the world and love it undeniably. 

_For the first time in a very long time she was sure about one thing. This child would bring pure light back into her dull world; and she would die before she let anyone strip that happiness from her._****

9:01 AM

_Darkness surrounded her as she entered her apartment. Her heart swelled instantly knowing that something was amiss. Carefully she reached into the drawer of the table by the door, feeling the object she needed. Turning off the safety, she cocked it into place, then hesitantly switched on the light._

With her gun aimed dead ahead she kept her stance, remembering all that Jill Valentine had taught her. She never thought she would find herself in another situation like this. Hell, Raccoon was the last thing on her mind but something about the surrounding atmosphere had her paranoid; then again it could have just been the hormones eating at her brain.

_It was too quiet for her liking, eerie._

_Checking every nook and cranny she tip-toed, her weight barely making any noise against the carpet as she shifted in front of her closed bedroom door._  
**_You're going to open this and Aid is going to be sound asleep. You're just paranoid._**

_Reaching for the handle, her body quivered with fear, her heart pulsating loudly in her ears; vibrating her veins. Taking a deep breath she readied herself._  
**_Aim for the head, shoot. We have done this more than a billion times. We've got this._**

_She took a deep breath.__**  
This isn't Raccoon, Caliban, or Utah. We are okay. We've got this under control.**_

_Harshly swinging the door open, gun ready, her eyes met an absence of life. Her room was empty.  
__**Maybe there was a power outage in the neighborhood? You were gone all night, ya know? Aidan probably got impatient waiting for you and went home.**_

_That was it. Nothing was wrong, she was just being her insecure self. Kicking off her shoes, not caring to change out of her sweat dried clothes, she collapsed on her bed. Exhausted, she unloaded her gun, placing both the magazine and glock underneath the pillow beside her, __**just in case**__._

She then pulled up the comforter, fully covering herself, she dropped her head on her fluffed pillow. Closing her eyes it took her little time to drift off; unknowing that this would be the last time she would ever sleep in her own bed again.

* * *

**February 25, 2007 2:29 PM  
BSAA Memorial, Idaho US**

Logs burning on a wood stove as a family sought warmth. Freshness of a fallen snow, pure fleece present with every crunching step. Taste of candy canes appeased his mouth as he chewed down on a dissolving peppermint. All his senses clogged with winter as he dreadfully walked passed hundreds of, neatly aligned, fallen BSAA soldiers; who in an act of selflessness, gave their lives for the world to be a brighter place.

One by one he looked upon every tombstone that lined his path; thanking them silently. Some he knew, some he trained at one point, and when he reached the near end of the alphabet he found the name of the very woman who possessed his heart, his partner.

Her grave was obnoxiously overdone. A collage of dying bouquets, fake vibrantly colored flowers in every shade, statues of angels, and other various bull shit decorated the surrounding ground.

Rolling his eyes at the sight he pulled out his cigarettes grabbing two from the pack. Placing them both in his mouth. With one hand he sheltered the lighter from the gusting wind, the other flicking the object to life; a single flame illuming them both.

Placing the pack and lighter back in his jacket pocket, he then retrieved one out of his mouth; resting it on her grave. He then slid down to lean upon the side of her tombstone; as though he was leaning on her shoulder for strength to carry on.

Chris knew Jill would have preferred a smoke and a shot of whiskey over roses any day. Though they had both quit the horrid habit of smoking, after Jill was gone he seen no point in not picking back up the addiction; and he knew as of right now she was in need of one more than him.

Laying one leg straight, he raised the other knee to rest his elbow on it. His empty hand rubbing gently at his brow.

He still hadn't gotten used to the fact that she was gone, he just dealt with it. She was the first thing on his mind in the morning, and the last before he closed his eyes at night; still an un-healing wound he couldn't bring himself to stitch.

"Jill..." His voice benumbed as his mouth verbalized her expired name.

Reserving the nicotine to feel the reborn buzz, he allowed the drug to fill his lungs.

What was he going to say? Should he apologize for not talking to her? Surely, she wasn't lonely with all the friends they had lost…still he was her partner...or hell was she even aware she was dead? Maybe it was like being in a deep, black sleep, where your mind is dreamless?

"I-uh…" He coughed to clear his throat, "I'm sorry for letting you go like that."

He smiled as he forced alertness toward the prepossessing memories they shared, "I always pictured you being the one to grow old. Hell Jill, you were supposed to be that bitchy old lady at the supermarket that would slug those idjit kids with her purse for being dicks."

Shaking his head the smile on his face disappeared, his hazel eyes tensing with remorse, "I wish it would have been me, Jill. I wish - I wish that you would have just let Wesker finish me off. In the end Valentine you would have found a way to escape him."

That statement was a lie and even he knew it. After Wesker finished him off, Jill would have been next.  
As of right now Chris couldn't see that fact. He was in the stage of mourning that believed all the lies his succubus of a mind fed him.

"I need you. I know that's no excuse for being a prick to everyone around me, and I know you want to kick my ass, but Jill...this…it hurts. This fucking nagging pain in my chest won't stop. It feels like my body is being torn in two while being soaked in acid. It hurts to breath, it hurts to think of you." He took one last puff of his cigarette before throwing it to the ground, he wiped his tear stain cheeks then continued, changing the subject, "I'm trying to stay here for Claire. Shit, I've taken at least twenty years off the ass-heads life. Right now, is a time where I would steal your strength, kick back a few buds, and call it a night."

Looking over at her cigarette, the blaze faded as it made its way down to the filter. Sighing Chris stood up, dusting himself off, the snow freezing his bare fingertips. This was pointless.

His jaw tensed, his red eyes looking down at her grave one last time unable to continue the conversation. It was too painful not to hear her ravishing voice reply back.

_In Loving Memory  
BSAA  
Jill Valentine  
1974-2006_

A trigger was pulled, a bullet flew at him from behind closed eyelids.  
_"Jill!"_ Echoed screams pierced his ears, his arms sickly glazing into the broken glass; tearing deeps cuts upon his flesh as salted air burned his face. Arms widely outstretched, he couldn't reach her. His eyes grew wide as he watched her limp body hit solid ground.

She was there, at the very bottom, splattered like a bug hitting a windshield, against the rock shore. Logically speaking there was no way the current could have carried her out before he made it to her; unless the sea hadn't taken her at all.

Dealing with all things Albert Wesker anything was possible, and by knowing that there was this gnawing itch eating him alive, screaming at him that Jill was far from dead.

Allowing his sanity to sink deeper in quicksand, his negation birthed into a whole other state. This giving him all the more reason to be back at Headquarters.

This was a new beginning. A re-birthing of a highly determined Chris Redfield, who wouldn't stop until his partner was once again safely placed in his arms. He would find her, he would save her, and if Wesker was as intelligent as he said to be. He would get the hell out of dodge.

* * *

**March 24, 2005 6:23 PM  
Seattle, Washington US**__

Silver eyes opened, the afternoon sun pouring in through her open bedroom window; the sounds of the city below swallowing the silence she had fallen asleep too. Her head pounded like a raging locomotive, wincing at the overpowered luminous she closed her eyes and turned over on her back.

Vibration sprang from under her pillow, grumbling tiredly, she slid her hand underneath it to retrieve her cellphone; the caller ID reading with a 'Blocked' number. Figuring it was of no importance she hit the end button, and placed it beside her; only to have it pulsate again.

Growing impatient as the buzzing became a continued annoyance, Rebecca finally answered.

Swallowing down all agitation, her voice was nothing more than professional, "Hello, this is Dr. Chambers. May I ask whose calling?"

"Chambers? Eh? As in the Rebecca Chambers?" It was a man's voice, his barely tolerable voice high pitched; it made her want to poke holes in her ear drums.

"Yes that would be so. May I ask who this is?" She responded as she rubbed her temples; a migraine doing its best to develop.

White noise transitioned its way into the phone line, forcing her migraine into full motion.  
Furious she had decided to hang up when the man's voice surfaced in; his words like a chainsaw splitting her entire being into shriveling pieces.

"Why don't ya tell me bout'ya days in Raccoon?"

She wanted to faint, her stomach swelling as her mouth moistened with bile. Hitting end she threw her phone on the nightstand as she ran past it and into her bathroom, her empty stomach oppressing non-existent liquids into the toilet.

Her chest tightened with bewildered helplessness. It couldn't have been a wrong number. Rebecca knew how these things worked. Whomever had just called was looking for her and was very aware of her whereabouts.

**_They are toying with you._**

_Her heart dropped to her toes, her mind screaming as her body tried to tourniquet her consciousness. She had to pack, she had to move now. Knowing that there was no time to waste she ran back into her room, her fingers sloppily dialing Aidan's number._

Her stomach growled with hunger as the dial tone emerged into her ears. Grabbing a duffle bag she filled it with all sorts of clothing, going from one drawer to another grabbing handfuls of just enough to get her by for a week at most.

She had no idea where she would go, nor did she care. She just had to get to somewhere safe, regardless of if she got a hold of Aidan or not.

"Come on. Come on. Answer your god damn…."

A high pitched frequency sounded from her brain to her ears, paralyzed she stopped dead in her tracks as a melody found its way into her alerted consciousness. Turning on her heels, her breath incapacitated, she faced the opened bedroom door which allowed her to gaze into the living room.

Tip toeing trying to track down where the sound was coming from, her phone in her sweaty palm began to vibrate again; the ringing in her apartment forced to a stop. Her body began to shake as a cold unnerved feeling shot down her spine, her knees felt as though they would give out any second. Ignoring the incoming call, she slid the iPhone open and redialed Aidan's phone.

An undeniable ringtone that was Aidan's, ruptured from behind her closet door. The melody shortly ending as her phone shook in her now trembling hand. Swallowing hard she brought the answered phone to her ear an all too animated voice screaming on the other line.

"Aren't'cha gonna open it up!?"

Closing her eyes, she bit down on her quivering lip. This all felt unreal, a bad dream that she would surely wake up from. It was like Raccoon all over again. The night on the train, the dead bodies finding animation as they tried to eat her flesh, the gruesome monsters…And then after barely escaping, she walked straight into the horrors of the Arklay Mansion; which was a whole other ball game itself. She didn't want to relive her past. She had ran so far away without a second glance back that she felt that the chances of them finding her were slim.

She felt safe, how could someone come in and so ruthlessly strip it from her?

Fighting her inner self, who wanted to hide like a child, she found her voice, "What do you want from me?"

The maniac laughed on the other end, "Why don't'cha look inside? Ya know ya wanna take'ah peek."

Although a part of her knew what the sight would be, curiosity got the best of her. With a convulsing hand she turned the handle to her closet.

Grey iris's fell on a decapitated body; her walls painted with decayed crimson. Without having time to process what she was looking at a hard object found its way into her thick skull. Swirling shades of darkness rampaged into her eyes as the world shut down all around her.

Rebecca's time was up.


	14. Chapter Thirteen: In Fates Hands

**First off I want to apologize for taking so long to update (started school) and for this chapter being so long! XD I just got going and couldn't bring myself to stop!**

**For those wondering Jill's 'present time' will be in next chapter alongside Wesker's flashbacks! Just tying up some loose ends that I feel needed to be tied before I move on any further. :D With that being said, I decided to bring in a character who in game files is not said to be brought into play until 2009. (He might just be a tad bit OC, but give it time, he still has time to grow.) I just couldn't help myself, and I felt to keep parts of the story going I needed to make a few changes here and there.**

**PS, even though I have done research, I have no idea how anything in the military works, sorry for any terms or words out of place. Just know that I tried my best! Haha. ****As always, thank you SOOO much for the favs/follows/&reviews! ;)**

**4itchytasty - Utah will be mentioned more in depth with this chapter! I'm sorry, it slipped my mind to mention last chapter that Utah was a part of the PerryVerse timeline. If you want to check it out it is by SD Perry and the book is titled Underworld. :)**

**Lili-Mai – Aha, huge fail on my part. XD I've just gotten so used to the technology surrounding us that I sometimes forget that we didn't have the luxury of an iPhone back then.**

* * *

**October 3, 1998 8:04PM**  
**Michigan, US**

_A chaotic serenade of alarms bursted throughout the enclosed space as a slumbering Valentine was jolted awake by her makeshift partner._

_Waking, her senses where overtaken by the panic induced atmosphere. Carlos who was fastened in right beside her was grabbing anxiously in the air; pulling down two oxygen masks from the compartment above._

_**What the hell is going on?  
**__  
"Engine's gone out!" Barry shouted frantically from the cockpit, responding as if he had read her mind, "We're going down."_

**_Oh god._**

_Slapping at Carlos' attempt to place the damn mask on her face, Jill unbuckled. With the blades conflicting against gusting winds of turbulence; Jill fought her way into the cockpit. Grasping onto anything she could, Jill pulled herself forward until she reached her destination._

_Screaming as loud as she could muster, her voice barely covered the squawking of the engine, "What can I do!?"_

_Barry shook his head as he tried to take control of the failing mechanism, "She's ah goner! Ain't a damn thing we can do!"_

_"No! Barry! There has to be something we can do!"_

_How the hell was this even possible? They had just barely escaped the hellacious gates of Raccoon, and now this? What had she done to deserve these past few months of shit luck? After fighting so hard to save the world; while doing so, killing countless amounts of Umbrella's monstrosities, and this is what would be the death of her? This is what she had fought so hard to live for and see?_

_**Oh the irony.**_

_Growing agitated with his younger comrade's carelessness, Barry's paternal extinct kicked in. Pulling her fully into his territory he slammed her body harshly into the seat beside him, "Buckle yourself up! We don't have time for chit-chat! And I will be damned if I see another one of you dead!"_

_Only nodding Jill obeyed his command. Her hands shaking uncontrollably, her eyes mindlessly watching Barry speak into the radio. Silence dwelled around them, a ringing in her ears replaced the groaning of the engine._

_Wide eyed, trepidation shot down her body like a surge lightning. Jill had found herself in these life or death situations fairly regularly as of late, and with that she had learned the feeling of apprehensiveness was the worst in existence; it was one of a kind, impossible to describe._

_It's almost as if you anticipate that final blow just to get it over with. Like a gun to your head, you don't want the bastard to pull the trigger because behind frightened iris's you are looking over every detail of your life; your mistakes, your ambitions, your family…the little things, the simple things that make you the person you are. And with one click, one motion of a finger, whatever makes you who you are is blown away like gun powder in the wind. But…deep down regardless of everything you are remembering, you crave for it to all be over, for a decision good or bad to be made._

_When you're free falling from the sky the world around you freezes, like a movie on pause being rewound in slow motion. She wondered absent-mindedly on what it must have looked like from ground view; a shooting star, perhaps?_

_She could see it all, the forest they had hotly drifted upon, the night starred sky which captivated its prisoner rather breathtakingly; smoke clouded her vision as ferocious flames engulfed the copter._

_She could hear it, the cries of horror from Carlos, the frantic praying of Barry Burton, the slapping of the blades as they failed; the crushing impact as the heavy machinery compacted with the ground below, the tearing of metal as Carlos' cries became agonized shrills._

_She could feel it all, her ears popping, Barry's tight grip as his hands conjoined with her, her muscles tensing as she awaited the crash; the shattering of thick bullet-proof glass splicing into her tanned skin, the heat, the cool air spewing in from where the back of the copter used to be._

_And then just like that, it was all over._

_She lifted her head from the dash as a swath of crimson overtook her face. Allowing the tainted air to fill her lungs, she found her body rejecting the action, her throat digging into her naked nerves like sharpened nails as a savaged cough escaped her body._

_She felt lost, like a misguided ghost wondering in her own body. She was aware of what had happened to some extinct, though still her mind wouldn't allow her to fill any emotion toward it._

_**Carlos…Barry…Barry…Carlos…Chris  
**_**_Chris is he okay? He is in Europe? Right? He has to be okay. Yes, he is okay. He is safe. You were only with Barry and Carlos. Barry…_**

_Biting down on her lips to ease the aching muscle, she turned her neck; torturous pain boiled her stomach raw, the feeling nauseating; otherworldly. Trying her best to ignore the sensation her hazed eyes met an unconscious Barry. His abdomen expanding and contracting as he inhaled and exhaled. He was alive._

_**Barry's okay. He's breathing. Barry's okay for now. Barry's alright.**_

_Her mind rambled in riddles, and if she was in the right mind to self-diagnose she would be fully aware of the fact that she was suffering from a concussion._

_**Carlos…Carlos…His cries…His cries…He is still screaming. Oh god… those cries…those cries…Carlos where are you…Carlos…**_

_His continuous death penetrating shrills from behind her allowed Jill to know Carlos's location. A stabbing pain of a dulled knife erupted into her chest, her lower body felt as though it was disintegrating; denying her the mobility to turn around._

_**What happened…please just…please let him be okay…those cries…those cries…Carlos…I'm so sorry…**_

_Her body was at its wit's end. Not even forty-eight hours ago she was hauled up in a clock tower; a parasite swimming in her bloodstream as the tyrant virus made itself one with her veins. Not to mention all the shit it endured getting out of Raccoon._

_She had pushed herself beyond human limits and her body was paying the price. Unable to hold them high any longer her eyelids collapsed onto her tear line, masking her dilated pupils; black swallowing blue._

_Falling into a deep slumber, Jill let the cries of Carlos carry her deeper into oblivion.  
__**Forgive me, Carlos.**_  


* * *

__**March 4, 2007 5:30 AM  
BSAA Headquarters, Idaho US**

Refreshing his mind he stared down upon the newest recruits of the BSAA. They were going over procedure; basic training on what to do during a bioterristic attack, how to control the situation, and most importantly they were learning the Achilles heel of the known B.O.W.s; training Chris himself had learned nearly a decade ago without choice.

It felt like yesterday. It all did, leaving a horrible after taste in his mouth; and no it wasn't the silk black coffee he had found himself addicted to as of late, but it was close in comparison.

One week had passed since he signed himself back into the BSAA. Much like he expected there was no arguments or questions asked when he inquired the board that his chair and position be returned. They welcomed him with salutes of pity; and as requested allowed him to take over for another division entirely.

After his homecoming Chris had caught wind of Ethan Crick's, Captain of the SOU (Special Operations Unit) Alpha Team, plans of retirement. Chris, who had been a part of the USAF (United States Air Force), knew the grounds of what it took to be a soldier and was more than qualified, if not overly, for the position.

Truth be told if it wasn't for Jill he would have never chose to be an SOA operative. He had never clicked with anyone as good as he did with her. They were the perfect team, one in a million; a rarity.

Chris would never admit to it but, after the betrayal of his ex-Captain, of whom he trusted with his life, it was hard for him to place his faith into someone other than Jill. And once he became one with the BSAA he would regularly turn down his mission orders if paired with anyone that was not her; unless it was a dire need bases, which happened rarely, though when it did he closed himself off emotionally to whomever it was; giving them no insight on his personal life.

Knowing this was something he needed to work on, Chris faintly remembered he had once felt comfort in having a team. Larger numbers in case something horrible were to go wrong, multiple people having one another's back; a win, win ordeal. Hell, the SOU was his and Barry's idea in the first place, so why not bite the bullet and dive in?

And that's exactly what he did.

Standing tall as the SOU's newly appointed Captain, Chris kept his eye on one recruit in particular; and had been for the past three days.

From what he had been told these rookies had no knowledge of what hand to wipe their asses with, let alone how to survive a bioterrorist attack. Sure, they had been given military training prior too, though in this line of work that would only get you so far.

They were naïve and cocky; Chris could visibly see this even while standing upon the indoor skyway, that placed at least a hundred foot distance between them. Their body language was distasteful, they lacked posture and obedience.

For example, how they carried their fire arms as though they were simple toys. And not to mention, how after being scolded by their commanding officers they would laugh without a care in the world; they were careless. It was a disgrace to even consider the thought of them carrying the BSAA's name upon their shoulder. They had no right...except one.

From the distance Chris could only tell so much, but by what he saw, he was more than impressed. The rookie reminded him a lot of his younger self; straight down to the tousled spiked hair. He could tell the young man had morals by the way he held his head higher than any other. How he took the training circuit serious, unlike his classmates who found the biohazard dummy target's a laughable subject. This kid was determined and devoted to the cause, and Chris truly admired his ambitiousness from afar.

Taking the last sip of his beverage, Chris watched as the rookie took his shot. He could see him physically exhaling as he mentally made preparations before pulling the trigger; lining the target for an accurate shot. Much like an art form, he let out a deep breath, pulling the trigger, he hit the target dead on.

Showing no hint of excitement, as though the strike was a disappointment, the rookie passed the sniper rifle onto another, taking his place at that end of the line.

And in that moment Chris knew that the SOU Alpha Team had just found their marksman.

* * *

__**October 4, 1998 6:45 AM  
Michigan, US**

_Singed smells of gasoline baked into his nostrils as he forced himself awake. Opening his eyes he took it all in. The sky above shined a yellowing blue proving to him that day was right around the corner; the break of dawn attempting to bask them in its heavenly glow._

_Looking to his left his eyes met a slumbering Jill. Her arms lazily wrapped around her head; protecting herself from the heated shards of glass which bathed her body; the sleeve of her dirty white sweater soaked in blood._

_Unsettled breaths sprung from the older man's parched mouth as he placed all his strength into waking Jill. With a hand placed on her shoulder he shook her gently out of her unconscious state._

_"Jill." Barry mumbled barely above a whisper; his voice refusing to reach its desired pitch._

_After sending Kathy and the girls to safety, Barry and the mansion survivors figured it best to keep close to one another. Boarding up in Vickers abandoned house, they spread out within. Chris and Barry shared the guest room, Rebecca took over Brad's old room, and Jill, though being the lightest sleeper, decided she would sleep on the couch in the common room; that way if Umbrella's merc's decided to break in to take them all out she could be on their asses in a hot second. Knowing this Barry knew there would be no issue waking her._

_Jill's silvered blue eyes opened; tensely shutting immediately as the break of day shined blindly into them. It's light making her pulsing headache all the more intolerable._

**_How long have I been out?_**

_Barry cracked a smile, thankful tears welled in his eyes at the sight of her stirring, "Good to see you're alive."_

_Touching the gash on her head, Jill flinched her hand back, a hiss springing from her lips._

_"Yeah. Wouldn't do that if I were you." Barry commented, trying to take in their situation best he could._

_"How long..." Jill attempted to speak, her voice a croak._

_Her throat was execrably crisped due to dehydration. How long had it been since she had water? Two maybe three days...maybe even more considering she wasn't sure how much time had been wasted since the crash?_

_Barry answered knowing what she was asking, "Ain't positive. Can never be sure when something like this happens."_

_Jill briskly nodded. Which she soon after noted as a bad idea; her vision blurred as the world shook around her. Closing her eyes, then opening them she luckily managed to regain focus_.

_"We need...to signal...for help." Jill rasped._

_"Transmitter should have sent our location to Redfield. That's if it wasn't damaged in the crash." Barry turned to look behind him, the demolished back proving to him that there was no sense in hoping for a rescue. Course, he wouldn't give Jill that information until it was on a need to know basis. She was in no state to be worrying._

Jill only nodded slowly having nothing to say.

_Like a fogged blizzard, her mind was unstoppable; continuously thinking one thing after another. She couldn't clutch on to any logical explanation as to why this was all happening to her. Exactly like that horrid nursery rhyme; her willpower to hold it all in was malfunctioning and she wasn't sure how much longer she could hold up her barriers before they crumbled to her feet. Her control over her pessimism was fading into nothingness, draining her of all optimism.  
__**Abandon hope.**_

_Wearing the mask of strength as she pretended to be indestructible towards her feelings was exhausting. Who was she fooling anyway? Herself? Not anymore? Them…Maybe?_

_Biting down on her lip, though she saw no point in doing so, she held back the surrendering tears, refusing to give into any weakness. She could do this_.

_**You're a Valentine, Jilly.**__  
Sometimes remembering Dick's words of encouragement only made matters worse._

_Silence planted itself around them as Barry studied the young woman who seemed to be too caught up in herself. This worried him. She was paling by the second, and he knew that wound needed looked at. But, what could he do?  
__**Keep her talking. That's what Kathy made you do for Moira when she fell off the swing. When someone is suffering from a concussion you keep them alerted and responsive.**_

"_Jill, it looks as though ya hit your head pretty hard. You think you could make a hike to the nearest town?"_

_Barry's question was inconsiderable; he even felt like a dumbass after asking it. She knew her head was to woozy to even attempt walking let alone hiking. Biting down on her lip to hold back her sorrow Jill shook her head side to side, only two words falling, "I'm sorry."_

_"Not to worry. I figured as much. You look damn rough."  
_  
_Jill zoned out, Barry's words sounding as though he were behind a brick wall._  
**_The screams. His screams….Carlos' he's quite…_**

_"Carlos. Have you heard him?"_

_Shaking his head Barry looked down as he fidgeted with his hands; not wanting to tell her the harsh truth. After seeing the missing body of the copter he knew the kid was long gone._

_"I'm not so sure he made it."  
_  
_"No I heard him just...just..."_  
**_You've lost track of time. Its morning now, we wrecked early last night. There's a good chance Barry's right._**  
_"No...No." Jill muttered in disbelief more so to herself than Barry. _

_Attempting to sit up another injury was brought to their attention. A gnawing rip of flesh introduced with a yelp of agonized horror as Jill gawked down at her pelvis; a piece of metal disappearing into her body.  
_  
_"Damnit! Jill, don't move!" Barry worriedly shouted as he shifted his way to her; shoving the lingering debris out of his way._

_"I didn't realize..." Jill said insensibly, her alarmed fear stricken eyes showing Barry the dilation of her pupils.  
_  
**_Shit. She needs medical care stat. She weighs less than a broom, you could always carry her on your back to safety._**  
_Not to worry her, Barry kept his features serene, his voice composed, "Course not. You're in shock. Now hold still."_

_As Barry observed her, she looked him up and down, searching his body for any injuries. Other than the bruised swelling of his arm he looked clean of injury. Possibly a sprain at worst._

_Barry sighed. It didn't take an Einstein to know it was deeply imbedded into her skin,_ _"Jill, to be honest I'm not sure what to do. I'm no doctor and it's not my call to make. I do believe we need to remove it before some sorta infection sets in."_

_Jill nodded in agreement, that's all she needed, "I know. Which means..."  
_  
_Tensing her jaw, Jill clenched her fingers tightly around the bar of metal pinning her to the passenger seat. Without giving it another thought she pulled as hard as she could; her fingers sliding sloppily over the crimson lubed metal._ _Her teeth clashed together as her face overcame with a suffering scowl, her forehead creasing as she grunted in horrifying discomfort._

_It was an odd feeling._ _She could feel the twisting of the metal as it made its way past every inch of muscle, pressure; it felt almost as if she was going to pop her pelvic bone out of place._

_Barry turned away not being able to withstand the look upon her features. He needed out, and he swore to himself in that very moment if he got the hell out of here alive then he would never look back. Ever.  
_

* * *

__**March 4, 2007 11:54 AM  
BSAA Headquarters, Idaho US**

Chris had been in board meetings all morning, and so far no new data or information had be received for a mission to be placed into action. This meaning the board members, Chris excluded, were highly enthused, seeing as how that meant the US was in no immediate danger; though for Chris it only delayed his chances of finding Jill.

He knew he would have to patient and play his cards precisely if he were to outwit Wesker this time around; he could only hope she would be in one piece by the time he found her.

The thought of her becoming a B.O.W. had crossed his mind more than enough times to count. He was horrified that by the time he found her she would be mutated beyond survival; suffering for only god knows how long before he came around to put her out of her misery. It was his worst nightmare, and he could only hope that Wesker would find it in himself to spare her of such a fate.

Knowing Wesker he knew the chances of finding her alive were thin. Dealing with him was like stepping on a frozen pond, one wrong move and you were dead; trapped in his idea of what humanity should be.

Then again, what if he was hallucinating it all? What if the shock of losing her tricked his mind into seeing a corpse that night? What if she had truly landed in the deranged shores?

_No. Redfield. Get a hold of yourself. She was there. You know she is out there somewhere. You can sense it. She's alive and we will find her._

Chris was making himself sick with worry. For now there was nothing he could do, it was all out of his power. He just had to trust that Jill would be okay until he could get to her; and come high hell or water he would do everything in his power to bring her back home.

Before he knew it Chris was standing right in front of the gun range where the students were being trained. After giving it great thought, Chris had fully decided it would be in everyone's best interest if he brought the rookie into the Alpha Team.

Stepping in he was greeted by John Andrews, former scout for the S.T.A.R.S. Exeter branch in Maine, and now SOA operative.

"Redfield!" He said enthusiastically as he pulled Chris into a brotherly embrace, "It's good to have you back."

Releasing from the man's strong grasp, he replied, "It's good to be back."

"I'd say so." He said with a gentle smile, not wanting to pry.

Chris crossed his arms over his chest, sensing John's uneasiness, he nodded in the direction of the recruit, "What can you tell me about him?"

"Nivans?" Andrews replied, then continued guessing that Chris wasn't aware of his name, "He was recruited two weeks ago after taking requested infinite leave from Special Forces."

"He was in the army?" Chris asked raising a quizzical brow, "I thought all recruits were brought straight in out of military school?"

Shaking his head 'yes', Andrew's toffee bronzed skin shimmered proudly, "Before Special Forces, Nivans graduated at the top of his class from DC's most elite military academy." Shrugging they both continued watching him, "That's all I know. Though after studying the kid I have come to the conclusion that he could be of use."

"I completely agree." Chris muttered, knowing without a doubt that the kid could achieve greatness, "Has anyone mentioned plans on where he will be placed?"

"Not that I'm aware of. But, if you want him you better speak up now. SOA is looking for more operatives since...uh…" Andrews stuttered realizing what he was about to let slip off his tongue.

Chris, who had been in this situation at least twenty-times a day, cut him off knowing the direction that sentence was going, "He would be of no use to them."

"I'll leave you to inform them of that." Andrews said turning away, throwing a respectful salute to Chris, "I've got to get back to my post. I'll see you around, Red."

"Yeah, yeah." Chris said gruffly with a tiny sense of humor sparking to his voice.

Turning his back to the recruits he made his way up to speak with the advisor.

_Nivans._ _Let's see what you've got._

* * *

__**October 6, 1998 1:56 AM  
Michigan, US**

_Caffeinated eyes stared out onto the deserted road ahead. They had no lights guiding their way, all sign of civilization within a twenty mile radius outside of, what used to be, Raccoon, obsolete._

_You would think after such a cataclysm there would be media, or at least one nosy reporter digging around the outskirts of the demolished city for an answer. Though, occasionally he would find himself driving up onto the wreckage of an outdated collision, other than that, the area was isolated of all things living and non-._

_Before this mess he was living comfortably in a world camouflaged with jocular content. A world where everything was alright; where everything had answers. Now, nothing was as it seemed; his whole twenty-one years of life had been a sheltered lie; and one thing was certain, there were no answers._

_The past eight days had been one hell of a ride; a continuous battle that he knew deep down would never end. One day he was a rookie strolling into the city to be welcomed in by the RPD. Leon had been more than familiar with the area, even lived there as a kid, and in his mind he saw the place as a safe haven, a place where nothing could ever go wrong…Oh, but was he mistaken. What awaited him was a harrowing incubus and its treachery didn't end there...No, Umbrella had to bring out their money in-crested whips and place warrants upon every surviving victim's head, including his; just so they could cover their ass._

_Now here he sat, driving a stolen van with four other criminals intact; all running for their lives._

_The five of them were returning from their very first 'mission' as fugitives. While in route to Europe to rendezvous with Claire's older brother, an older gentleman, Trent, sabotaged the plan by informing the group of an Umbrella Testing Facility in Utah, nicknamed Planet._

_He gave them all the need to know information on what was in store for them and what was requested; a codebook, only three of its kind, which would give access to all of Umbrella's hidden secrets. They were to steal the book from the overseer, Jay Reston, the usual prick in a black suit, and then return the findings to him, so that he, with their help, could take down Umbrella once and for all._

_All took into consideration what they would be doing, all reluctantly agreed, and in the end where successful; thanks to Rebecca's learned thieving skills the book was retrieved, and the 'Planet' was destroyed._

_Question was, why where they scavenging around where Raccoon had once been? Was it because Rebecca had a life there? Was it because Leon grew up there? Or was it because Claire still felt something odd about her brothers taking off to Europe?_

_The correct answer was; they all wanted justice for the wrongs that had been done._

_Shifting in the passenger seat something caught her eyes. Sitting up she outstretched her arms, Leon seeing the moving figure out of the corner of his eye glanced over at her. Only seeing her auburn hair, he turned his attention back to the road._

_"Pull over." Claire sluggishly mumbled._

_Leon's eyes shifted back her way, his confused features lit by the illuminating dash, "Why?"_

_**She's sleep talking again.**_

_Claire, who was very much awake, pointed out her window to the inflamed forest; already fed up with his questioning. From the passenger side window you could see smoke rising toward the full moon, like a snake seeking heat from blacktop._

_Claire wanted to kick the uneasy feeling welling in her chest. They had passed dozens of forest fires and surely there was nothing out of the ordinary about this one, yet still there was just something about this one in particular that made her feel as if they had no choice but to stop; like a force was pulling her soul into the calculating equation._

_**Chris is fine. Then again, it's not Chris that I'm worried about. **_

_Uninterested Leon took a sip of his chilling coffee, "It's not Chris, Claire. He's in Europe, remember? Besides, if you want to get to him we can't risk losing time."_

_"I don't care! Someone is in danger, Leon!" Claire raged unable to make sense of where these emotions were coming from._

_**Why can't he fucking listen to me for once?  
**__  
It had been one week and a day. One fucking week trapped without a breath of fresh air from this motley crew; and Claire wasn't the only one with these feelings. Sure, she respected Leon and was rather fond of his company, but he knew how to get under skin just as fast as anyone else._

_He treated her like a child; which would be understandable if there was a huge age gap between the two, when in reality it was less than four years. She couldn't understand why every day since Raccoon he had treated her as though her opinions didn't matter. Almost as if he had signed on to be her protector; which was highly intolerable seeing as how she already had one of those._

_**No you don't. Chris is half-way across the world. You'd be dead and he wouldn't have a clue.**_

_All she wanted was to be seen as an equal. To have her plans taken into consideration along with the rest. Was that too much to ask?_

_"Claire. We have passed several fires, none of which you felt the concern to speak up about." Leon commented, denying her request._

_She was furious, maybe even past that point. She was done with this bullshit. Hell, Rebecca was younger than her and she had a voice within the group. Why the hell couldn't she?_

_**That's going to change.**_

_Not having to look to hard she found what remained of her so-called 'Redfield' backbone, "Pull over the damn van, Leon!" Her voice rising twenty times louder than before; proving to him that she was truly kissed by fire._

_Knowing how Claire worked he knew there was no since in arguing; either way she was going to be irrational, he might as well just save his breath. Pissed off by her behavior Leon threw up his hands in defeat, his foot slamming as hard as possible on the breaks._

_"Happy!?" His blue eyes shined fiercely into hers; the tension between the two inevitable._

_Chatter stirred in the back._

_"What's going on?" Rebecca who had just dozed off asked, rubbing her sleep crusted eyes clear._

_"Bloody-hell!" David, who had been aware and awake throughout this whole conversation, muttered to himself, his hand rubbing at his forehead._

_**What have I gotten myself into?**_

_"Trying to sleep back here, Kennedy, if you don't mind." John chimed in, his deep voice plainly sporting aggravation._

_"Yes, very!" Claire responded, her face featuring that sarcastic 'fuck you' glare toward Leon as she unbuckled her seat belt; opening and slamming the door behind her._

_A high and melodic whistle sounded from behind Leon; springing from the lips of their personal jokester, John Andrews._

_Livid, Leon smashed his fist into the steering wheel._

**_Damnit, Claire. You stupid, stubborn woman.  
_**  
_Following her lead, Leon did the same. He followed her through Raccoon and he'd be damned to see her harmed after they guarded one another so well._

_After both enduring something together that no human should ever go through; the two had grown rather close. They found strength in their friendship, and though Leon wouldn't deny his feelings towards the woman he lost in Raccoon, he also wouldn't deny the fact that Claire was growing on him just as much; if not more._

_There was something about her that pushed his limits; something that he found comfort in that made him want to continue fighting this ruthless battle. She kept him motivated and as for now he wouldn't question his feelings and neither would she._

_Not even a minute later and there was a trail of five following in behind one another, traveling into the pitch black forest to face yet another castrophe; not expecting to see who they'd find._

* * *

__**March 4, 2007 3:30 PM  
BSAA Headquarters, Idaho US**

Dodging out of everyone's way, the arch of his feet throbbed as their bareness skid against the locker room's frigid tiles. Every muscle in his body ached with ecstasy; proving that his daily, nine hour, training had done its job.

It had been a physically draining day; not that he minded. He thrived on all things difficult, and the more he could prove himself worthy of being a true soldier, the less time he would spend shackled up indoors away from the on-going war.

Ever since he could remember, when asked, "Where do you see yourself in the future?" this is where he always envisioned himself to be, carrying on the Nivan's family tradition; just like everyman in his family before him, dating back to his great-grandfather.

This lifestyle was in his blood, and while being in the Special Forces he felt as though he was cheating himself by allowing his skills to rot in waste. His body was made to be put to use; his eyes designed to bring peace into the world with focus alongside the single click of his trigger finger.

Within the BSAA he was home and there was nowhere else he'd rather be.

Opening his locker he reached in grabbing his empty water bottle, finding his way to the fountain. Air condition froze his, sweat drenched, under-armor to his body; it felt revitalizing to him, as if he was sporting a built in ice pack.

Jabbering drowned itself out as everyone turned their heads to see who had just entered the room. Shocked, they all stood up straight, acting as though they weren't being unprofessional; even though he had grown accustomed to their childishness after examining them.

Chris Redfield stood before them all. He was a respected soldier; a veteran in eliminating all things dealing with bio-terrorism. Whom, with help, had protected the world this far, whilst throwing in his entire life. To be present before him was almost overwhelming; an undefeatable warrior god to their ignoble eyes.

One by one, they raised their hands to their heads to salute the Captain. They were all aware that if you were to empress anyone around here, he would be the man; little did they know salutes weren't mandatory whilst being at HQ.

Looking over each and every one of their goggling, groupie like, faces, Chris couldn't spot the one Andrew's referred to as 'Nivans'. Leaving him with no other choice.

"I'm looking for Nivans." His voice rougher than they expected.

Not sure what to say or how to answer, they all remained silent.  
Could he have been in some kind of trouble? Like hell, they wouldn't sell out one of their own. And as Chris was about to speak up again, this time deciding he would add a bit more force to his voice, he saw Nivans familiar face dart around a locker and into view.

"Here." Sitting his drink down respectfully, he then fell in with his teammates, preparing to do as they had done.

Chris instead raised his hand, throwing aside his attempt to salute, "No need. When you're finished up I'd like to see you in my office."

His jaw flexed nervously uncertain of the occasion. He wanted to ask why he was being called upon, but thought it best not too question authority. Giving a single answer, "Yes'sir."

And with his single response Chris turned his back to the young men and was out of sight; in unison they all turned to stare at Nivans, endless questions and ignorant comments pouring out of their immature mouths.

_"Piers, what have you done?"  
"And I thought you were the best out of us, who knew."  
"Maybe you're being recruited back into the military or whatever you did before?"  
"Always knew you had some skeletons in your closet just waiting to be dug up."  
_  
Rolling his eyes he ignored the aimless chatting. Turning in the combination to his locker, he pulled out his change of clean clothes, then placed all his belongings that needed to be left for tomorrows training.

_Could I have done something?_  
Killing it, he knew he shouldn't even consider the thought.  
_No. I've done everything required. Maybe he wants me to help mentor the others?  
That has to be it. Why else would Chris Redfield himself request to see me?_  
_  
_Even so, it was a dream come true. Ever since learning about the BSAA and what it had to offer he had idolized Chris. He was the best of the best, what every newbie craved to become; as was his fallen partner, Jill Valentine.

Though Pier's himself had never bared witness to their partnership, the stories his ears were blessed to hear was well enough to know that the duo could overcome anything and everything; moving mountains at their wake. To him, they were a real life representation of what your favorite comic book superhero would have been.

Their tough backgrounds motivated him; inspired him to be a part of a life changing organization, one where he could fight for all that he loved and held dearest, and while doing so, bring his family name honor.

You could only imagine his heartache when he got word of Jill's death and Chris's demanded unemployment from the organization. He was devastated; it hit too close to home for comfort. Now though, he would have the opportunity in thanking him for all he'd sacrificed, and one day, he would thank her.

* * *

**October 5, 1998 3:24 AM  
Michigan, US  
**  
_Paralyzing silence perforated the moonless dark as her contorted bloodshot eyes stared into nothingness__**. **__White steam birthed from her shivering lips as she took steady uneven breaths.  
__**Jill Valentine, 'Master of Unlocking'. No. More like, 'Master of Misfortune'.  
**__Even Jill found humor in the thought._

_She had faced the reality that no one was coming to rescue them…not even Chris, though every time she caught a shadow out of the corner of her eye, her heart kick started with adrenaline thinking it was him; when she turned, to her disappointment, he was never there; no one was, and no one would ever be. Her mind was playing tricks on her; showing her hallucinations of what she craved to see._

_With one sentence spoken to Barry, Jill had managed to jinx them all, __**"What more could go wrong?"  
Stupid. Stupid. If only I had known.**_

_Finding Carlos was easier said than done, especially seeing as how part of the helicopter's chamber insisted on hiding half of his body under its weight; a morbid game of peek-a-boo.  
_  
_When they found Carlos, he was very much alert and aware of all that had happened, he was even talking normally as if it was a casual everyday situation. Barry and Jill knew that this was something they referred to as surge, a boost of energy before death, and that his time was drawing near._

_His injuries were one of the worst Jill had laid eyes upon; and after the current events her eyes had bared witness too, that was saying something._

_The bottom half of his body was blended into the ground; the metal which covered him weighed more than Jill and Barry alone, and though they tried their damnedest to lift it off him, it was no use; the damage was done and moving the metal would only make matters worse for him and their injuries. With no choice but to give up, Jill promised not to leave his side. It was the least she could do given their history. __**He stayed by my side when I was near death, I'm not leaving his.**_

_While Jill shielded Carlos from the harshness of the weather, Barry who had soon after taken a turn for the worse, planted himself in Jill's arms, leaching to consume as much of her body warmth as humanly possible._

**_Why Carlos?_**  
_He had risked his life to save her, now all she wondered was why hadn't she been given the chance to do the same?_

_Her sad weary eyes looked over at his. They were amped open, staring absently into space; slightly resembling one of Umbrella's creation. Shadows from the dulling fire of the copter danced softly across his face; a lazy smile breaching his purple lips._

_Jill knew instantly what was happening. Carefully pulling away from Barry, she clutched her pelvis; her worried brows furrowing as she crawled towards him. His eyes staring past hers as she clutched his cold hand; it was as though she was invisible._

_"Carlos?"_

_No words broke from his grinning, death bitten, lips. His cold eyes blankly consuming something behind her. A chill ran down her spine as she sensed a presences; turning, her heart beating rapidly, she saw no one but Barry._

_"Carlos, listen. Just hang in there a bit longer. Help is on the way." She was lying, and he knew it.  
_  
_He could see Jill's beautiful silhouette, her water hazed voice barely audible to his ears as his attention grasped onto something more astonishing._

_Was it an angel? A reaper of death?  
Its rapturing light swallowed the darkness surrounding_ _Jill_. _Its shadow the shape of a humans yet extraterrestrial; its presence feeling his soul with tranquility.  
_  
_Jill felt hopeless. She couldn't dare lose another comrade. It was becoming intolerable. She could only beg even though she knew the fate he had been handed was non-negotiable._

_"Carlos! Stay with me! God damnit!" She cried as she cupped her hands around his frost bitten face, "Not like this damnit, not like this!"_

_The unknown creature reached its hand out to him as it hovered down next to Jill; her face red, tears streaming out one after another. He didn't want to leave her in such a state. He had so many things left to say, so many pages unwritten...but he was ready...it was his time._

Looking over every little detail of his life, he knew it had been a shitty one. This was something he had dreamed of since he was just a child; to be freed from the brutality of the world; to finally be at peace.

_Succumbing to death, Carlos stretched out his hand, his smile widening; a feeling of purity vibrating throughout his dying body. His eyes showing one last beam of life as his soul was brought to rest._  
_  
Jill watched unknowingly, her sobbing pleas for him to stay turning into horrific shrills of mourning. Her silver eyes welling with waterworks; anger spread throughout her as she watched his body take its last breath. _

**_He's gone. He's fucking gone. You could have done more. He scratched your back, he saved your life! Why the fuck couldn't you do the same? You worthless selfish bitch._**

_She hated herself. She hated everything and everyone. _  
**_How the hell could you let this happen to someone so honorable?_**  
_Screaming at the top of her lungs, she killed the pain as she stood up. Her fists welling in unison with her legs as she indulged in_ _easing the guilt; attempting to destroy what killed him._ _Barry's startled eyes shifted awake by the mournful commotion. Ignoring his needs he sprang to Jill's side; already aware of what must have happened._

_Pulling her into a straight-jacket embrace; he fell to the ground with her as her knees gave out._

_Soothingly, he petted her head, something he had done for his daughters time after time, as her cries lengthened. Jill's body shook as she let out all that she had been holding in since that horrid night at the Spencer Estate._

**October 6, 1998 11:08 AM**

_With her knees pulled protectively into her chest Jill listened nauseously to the sound of rabid animals fighting ferociously over the remains of Carlos' body. She didn't know which was worse, the sound of them romancing over his corpse, or the fear of them smelling the fresh meat that was her and Barry. Either way she didn't want to think about it. Freeing her mind, it hobbled to one subject after another._

_What possessed her to move to Raccoon in the first place?_

_**Because if you didn't you would more than likely be behind bars like Dick.**__  
Why had she taken that stupid fucking job in the first place?  
__**Don't lie, you know half the reason was because you found the STARS Captain decently attractive. Oh, don't you also realize you were crushing on the very man who destroyed your fucking life and killed half the fucking team?**__  
Why did she where this god damn outfit?  
__**Because you're ignorant.**__  
Why didn't she fucking go with Chris and make everyone's life easier?  
__**Ditto to the last response.**_

_She had gotten herself into this mess; she, herself dug this hole and there was no sense of trying to get out because once she did, something else would spring from the mouth of Satan, like always, and she would have to fight her way out all over again. It was a repeating cycle; exactly the same every time._

_She wanted to die. Simple as that. Instead of mentoring her to be a damn good team member of STARS, why couldn't Wesker have just pulled the fucking trigger at the coffee shop? He played her. He played them all, and now because of him and all his bullshit lies, she, alongside all the others, was in this mess._

_**One of several in Umbrella's freak Carnival.**_

_It wasn't her or anyone else but him, she hated. She hated him with every ounce of her being. He was a fucking monster, and possibly even Lucifer himself. If she lived through this, she wouldn't stop until she got revenge._

**_October 6, 1998 2:17 AM  
_**_  
Since they had abandoned the van the group had placed all conversation on mute; the only sounds audible was those of their footsteps crunching down on the fallen autumn leaves as saccade's sang a cold symphony into the burning night._

_A strong intoxicating smell of burning metal and gas made Rebecca wheeze; a sneeze awakened into the air startling everyone. Claire and Leon turned around; John and David turned to face her with bulging eyes, "Jeez, it was only a sneeze. Relax." She commented with a drained melodic laugh._

_John chucked to himself tiredly, "Can't relax after the shit we've seen Bec's. You know that."_

_She shrugged knowingly, "I know. Sorry."_

_"S'okay." Claire muttered sheepishly._

_Continuing their hike Rebecca, David, and John carried on chattering from behind as Claire and Leon picked up on their own conversation._

_"I'm sorry for the way I acted back there." Claire apologized, something she had always found rather hard to do. Now, she felt she had no choice; who knows he could easily die before she ever got the chance._

_Leon who was nothing but tired responded, "It's understandable, besides, I needed to stretch my legs."_

_"You're such an ass." She commented with a subtle smile; Leon watched as it faded, her eyes dropping to her invisible feet, "Do you think Chris is okay?"_

_Leon knew the chances were slim, then again from what he had heard about Chris he knew he wasn't your average guy; he was a Redfield after all, and after spending time with Claire he had learned more than once that their bunch is one hell of a headstrong family._

_He gave a nod, his gentle gaze capturing hers, "Not a doubt in my mind."_

_That's all she needed; spoken reassurance that her brother was alive and kicking._

_Shifting the subject Claire kept their casual conversation going, "Ya know, I haven't gotten the chance to ask you and now is as good a time as ever; do you have any siblings?"_

_"Yeah, little sister. Though, I wish we were, we aren't as close as you and Chris."_

_Claire couldn't imagine not being close to Chris. He was all she knew growing up; he taught her everything about life; he was the one who to tuck her in at night; who she ran to when nights were too scary to handle alone; who cooked her meals; who made sure everything she wanted was available to her; hell he had even learned how to braid…he had given the better half of his life to her; a debt she could only pray she would have the chance to repay._

_Claire lost in thought, not knowing what to say or how to comment to his response; Leon continued sensing her uneasiness, "It's alright, and once we are out of dodge I will be taking a long vacation to see her."_

_Claire was about to speak when they came upon the clearing. Dead in her tracks she stopped, Rebecca who wasn't paying attention ran into her. Ignoring that fact Claire's mind froze. All eyes but Leon's widened at the sight, their jaws dropping when they caught glimpse of the familiar faces of Jill Valentine and Barry Burton._

_"Well, shit Claire. Looks like you have a touch of the 'shining'." John joked trying to break the ice. David slapped his shoulder giving him a disapproving look._

_**How is this possible? Didn't Jill join Chris? Does this mean…No…**_

_Taking in the fire lit scenery Claire noticed a hand laying out from a piece of the copter. Her heart stopped, dropping into her stomach, and before she knew it her legs were running as fast possible. She needed answers._

_**Was that Chris? Please, God…don't let that be Chris.**_

_Reaching the shredded body Claire whelped with thankfulness. It was unforgivable for her to feel so relieved to see that the body wasn't of her brother, but of someone else; at this moment she could care less of her selfishness._

_Taking an easy breath Claire turned to look at Jill and Barry, the others were already at their side. Making her way to them Rebecca left Barry, who was awake and moving, to check on Jill. Her expression faltering as she checked Chris's partner._

_"No...no..." Rebecca whispered frantically as Claire made it to them. Leon had no idea who the woman was having never seen any of the STARS, except Chris; he made a good guess at it though._

_"What's wrong?!" Barry asked, his voice hurtfully breaking, "I didn't mean to doze off…"_

_"Leon, take Barry on to the van." Rebecca commanded as she laid Jill flat on the ground; her ear pressing against her chest._

_Noticing the body in which Claire first thought was Chris, David and John made their way over to it. Carlos' body was torn into pieces, his face sliced open with gruesome bite marks; his upper body now pulled away from its lower half; his chewed organs laid spread out all over the surrounding grass._

_"Bloody hell." David muttered through his thick accent._

_"You're right on the money, my friend." John commented staring down._

_Putting her head to Jill's chest, Rebecca could hear a faint heartbeat. Ripping open her chest she seen the problem; her whole upper chest swelled with a massive bruise. Leon who attempted to get Barry out of view got a swift punch to the face; Leon took the hit like a man and wiped the blood from his nose._

_Barry was at Jill's side, as was Claire; blocking Rebecca's light; the whole ordeal pure chaos._

_Agitatedly focused she looked at them both, "Get the hell out of the light! She's dying! Move! If you want to help me, pass me my damn bag!"_

_Claire stood up and as she did Rebecca turned toward Barry, "Listen, I will save her but to do that I need you to follow Leon and John back to the van." Moving the conversation toward the others, Rebecca continued, "I need the car heated and ready. David you stay with me, Claire and I will need your help carrying Jill back."_

_All nodded and Barry stood up, taking one last glance at Jill before he followed. Claire who had returned with the bag opened it up then looked to Jill._

_"What's wrong with her?"_

_David seeing this once before answered for Rebecca who was cleaning her equipment, "Cardiac Tamponed. Her bodies not pumping enough blood due to the blood built up around her heart."_

_Horrified Claire continued rambling, "Will she be okay? Chris will lose his shit if I let something happen to her."_

_"You aren't letting anything happen to her, Claire. Whether she lives or dies, this isn't yours to be blamed for." David said trying to ease her conscious, but instead made things worse._

_**She's going to die and Chris won't get to say goodbye.  
**__Tears filled her eyes at the thought. Though she had only met Jill a handful of times she knew what the woman meant to her brother. She was all Chris talked about, and there was no doubt in her mind that her brother had feelings for her._

_Rebecca chimed in, a scalpel in hand, "She's not going to die! I won't let that happen."_

_Deciding it best to do a pericardia window; Rebecca sliced open a tiny slit of her chest, then after with the other hand, she forcefully shoved a gauged needle into her chest; blood instantly shot out from the other end like a waterfall._

_Resuscitated, Jill opened her eyes; and she knew right then and there she owed Rebecca Chambers her life._

**Little did she know the circumstances they would find each other reunited within.**

* * *

_****_**March 4, 2007 4:16 PM  
BSAA Headquarters, Idaho US  
**  
Staring down at the black journal he debated on whether or not to open it. The passing months had been afflicting without hearing her spoken thoughts. She was always so open with him about her present day life; always speaking her mind. He knew everything from her sleep schedule to her favorite song. She laid it all out for him…then again after being with someone for eight years that was easy to do.

When it came down to her past, it was a completely different story. When brought into a conversation she would always retort to changing the subject or give him fragmented details here and there on what she saw as the 'little things'.

He was aware of her feelings toward Dick; having two parents like him, Chris could more than relate. Still, he felt there was a whole other woman he didn't know; a stranger. And he regretted more than anything not asking her more.

Her personal diary was held in his uncertain grasp.  
_If she wanted you to know she would have told you. Leave it to rest._

'Leaving it to rest' was something he couldn't bear any longer. Forcing his hand to open the journal; pounding knocks sounded at his door.  
_Saved by the bell?_  
For now her secrets were anyway.

Tossing the journal recklessly in a drawer he proceeded to answer the knock; his voice startled as if he had gotten caught red handed for stealing, "Come in!" _Damnit, Jill. The hold you still have over me._

Entering Piers felt that his heart was going to burst out of his chest.  
_You'll find out soon enough what this is all about._  
He thought as he made his way to greet Chris.

Standing up, Chris held out his hand to Piers, who took it without hesitation. Then after pulling away, Chris sat down, gesturing for Piers to do the same, "Have a seat."

Not knowing what to say, Piers took a seat, hoping that he had made a good first impression.  
_What if you stepped out of bounds during training? What if you're out? Quit doubting yourself, dipshit._  
Piers couldn't recall one time in his entire life where he had been so nervous. This was unnatural; he was more than confident, never had he once doubted himself. He was a Nivans for fucksake, and Nivans' were known for their composure.  
_Hold it together. _

Clearing his throat Chris slid a stapled stack of papers, on his desk, in front of Piers, who looked down in awe uncertain of what was happening. Glimpsing over it, he looked up at Chris; his face like a deer in headlights.

"Sir, I'm not sure of what you're trying to inform me."

"Piers." Chris stated, learning his name before the encounter, "Alpha Team is in need of a marksman, and after watching you I'm sure you're just the guy we are searching for."

His mouth drew long, "Sir, I don't understand. How is this possible? I'm..."

"More than qualified." A sincere compliment sprouting from his mouth.

Piers couldn't believe his ears; this scenario a dream he never wanted to wake from. His youthful face struck with unimaginable accomplishment, the look making a real smirk plaster itself upon Chris's rugged features.

Chris remembered what it felt like; being young and achieving greatness. That very feeling of having the world on your side; a never-ending high. It all felt like a completely different life time. He had grown tired of the man he had become. He was hardened, paralyzed towards any emotion but uncertainty; someone he had promised himself he would never be. Every time he caught himself looking in a mirror he was repulsed; scars and wrinkles cloaked the naïve boy he once was. He missed his simple life, a life without worry and pain; a life that could never find its way back to him; those chapters of his book had already been written out in black sharpie.

Chris nudged the packet toward him, placing a pen on top of the document, "I'll let you think it over."

His mind was made, he already knew what he wanted, "Sir, I don't need to think over it. I'd be more than honored to follow under your command."

"You're aware of what you will be giving up?"

Chris could feel his heart break while asking the question. He was asking someone to throw away their life. Yes, for a good cause, but at what cost was it truly worth? If he could go back to the start and redo everything, he would in a heartbeat. He would think his entire life through before he signed a contract outlined in death; and he would have forced Jill into a life she deserved.

She deserved a husband who was home from work in time to cook her dinner, who would massage her every night, and then afterwards make love to her like it were their first; while living in a two story house, with a back yard big enough for all their beautiful children to enjoy. That's what life should have rewarded her with, that's what he should have given to her. Instead he allowed her to be captured; or worse.

Piers could see the pain surfacing across Chris's face; he was thinking of her. Biting into his inner cheek he skimmed his mind for any reason not to sign onto his ambitions, coming up with zero.

Knowing he should bite he tongue, Piers continued on anyway, "You're thinking of Jill, aren't you?"

_Jill._ Her name was all he heard. Since being back everyone had stumbled around the subject of her, it was as if she never existed; as if she never joked with half these guys, walked these halls, or ate in the cafeteria. She wasn't a ghost here, she was a distorted memory that everyone was trying to forget, and it nauseated him.

Hearing her name was a relief; giving him the feeling his lungs needed to fully function.

"Yes."

Piers locked eyes with Chris, knowing that Chris needed to hear what he had to say, "Sir, I mean no disrespect by bringing her into a conversation. I just need you to know she hasn't been forgotten, and from my personal perspective she was a hero, giving her life so selflessly…that Sir, that takes…."  
Chris sat back wordlessly; Piers' gaze not faltering from his own, "I know, I don't know you. And I never knew her, but I know without a doubt she cared for you. Because that was an act of love."

Piers was raised to say what was on his mind. His mother always told him 'Honesty is the best policy. Even when someone doesn't want to hear, don't hold it in for that means you are holding back on yourself.'

Piers continued, "Yes, I know what I'm giving up, Sir. And I want you to know that I am handing it all over to honor her memory."

Chris could feel the tears trying to submerge out of his eyes. Either alive or dead, Piers was correct; his words were something Chris needed to temporarily patch a tearing hole in his soul. Looking away from the recruits gaze, Chris stared out the window, so not to get emotional.

Scratching of pen on paper, brought Chris back into reality. Looking over he watched Piers skim over and sign every sheet, until there was nothing left.

Not a word spoken between the two, Chris broke the silence as Piers stood up, "Thank you."

Piers nodded, a half smirk pulling to his cheek, "You're more than welcome, Sir."

Turning his back to walk out the door, Chris spoke up, "Go home and get some rest. Tomorrow, Four AM sharp, I want you bright eyed, bushy tailed, and ready to train with me. Do you copy?"

"Copy that."

His office door closed shut, leaving Chris alone with only his thoughts.


End file.
